


A Single Chance at Happiness (Part 1)

by the3rdletter



Series: A Single Chance at Happiness [1]
Category: Pocket Mirror (Video Game)
Genre: Demons, Drama, Fantasy, Gen, Headology, Horror, Mystery, Other, Religion, Witchcraft, multiplepersonalitydisorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the3rdletter/pseuds/the3rdletter
Summary: This is a story of a little girl, who once before escaped her fate at the hands of a sealed bargain.This is a story of conflicting designs, of plans and plots put to the test.This is a story of the identity of mind, body and spirit.Amidst all these, this is a story about a single chance at happiness.





	A Single Chance at Happiness (Part 1)

**Author's Note:**

> Still may be subject to further editing, and is open to suggestions and feedback! Leave it on the source documents, linked here:  
> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_udV1th01E9Pm-sWhCoqM50yeR54ub3I

Prologue

 

The summer night was, like any other German summer night, warm, calm and pregnantly silent in the woods under its dim domain. The silence was composed of background noises that disappear from one’s hearing if they remain long enough, such as the typical chirping of crickets or occasional hooting of owls.

But what was this silence pregnant with?

A child of noise? A child of revelations to come?

A woman, young and fair, with flowing violet hair reaching beyond her waist, and a minimalistic matching dress, moved like someone who was confident in what they were doing but was disturbed by how confident they were to do it, entering a clearing in the trees. This clearing was one that demanded privacy and respect, and it did this with one simple trait: at its center, a lone tree stump which seemed to bleed red on itself and the grass around it, which had all but entirely withered away by now. The axe that had done this deed to the tree lay just out of reach of its gruesome spill.

The woman’s eyes were a humbled gold, and they complemented her large straw hat bound by a red ribbon. Everything about her face spoke of mystery you shouldn’t ask her about, both for her sake and yours. The way she carried herself only amplified this message.

She knelt down before the stump, and waited.

After a short time, a grinning pumpkin tumbled  out of a tree above and hit her head with a rude bounce onto the stump. Upon connecting with the rust-stained wood, it vanished with a poof. She made a small, involuntary jerk when it hit her and looked more startled than she was. Comically so, the figure who appeared before her on the stump found, laughing his childish, cruel laugh. She waited patiently for him to finish.

“I can’t believe that still works!” He giggled.

“What is wrong?” The woman got to the point. She was curious. This time, when he had called her here, he had sounded uncharacteristically angry. He was not the sort to be angry, because he typically laughed at anything that would’ve angered someone in his place. Not so this time.

“My, how rude! Cutting straight to the point. It’s almost as if you don’t actually like talking to me at all.”

The woman uttered not a word, but stared into the figure’s face, which, aside from his pointed nose and eternally grinning mouth, was obscured by his hair, concealing his eyes, if he had eyes. The figure appeared as a young boy, with pitch black skin and goat horns on the sides of his head. He wore a button up shirt and shorts, with a brown coat that he wore off his shoulders.

He laughed again and shrugged. “I never thought this situation would find me. I always thought that I would find it instead!” Then his tone darkened. “But it has found me. And it has found you.”

The woman continued listening quietly.

He sighed. “You’re so bland… anyways, you see,  I have an issue, but you have an opportunity. I couldn’t quite get what I wanted, but that means you are necessary in my attempts to try again, which means I will owe you something if you agree to help. Are you… interested?”

The woman took all this in and thought. She was well aware from personal experience the dangers of bargaining with such a being. Her life had for so long  revolved around such a course of action’s consequences. But now, this could be her chance to escape.  Besides which, she had no real choice. The boy was really only asking as a formality, and he enjoyed formalities.

She nodded once. His grin, impossible as it should have been, somehow grew larger.

The silence had given birth to a plan. A plan that would damn one soul for the second time and grant another a single chance at happiness.

 

“Fleta, could you come outside with me, please?” Egliette called from downstairs.

“Of course, Egliette! What do you want to do?” Fleta said excitedly, running down the stairs to her. Maybe Egliette finally wanted to play again!

“Follow me. It’s very important.”

“Oh. Okay!” Fleta liked when the queen acted so enigmatic. She usually did before her coolest reveals and tricks.

But then again, she also acted that way before she revealed some of the scariest things Fleta had ever seen. The red door, for example. And based on how Egliette had changed over the last few days since Goldia had visited them after she had reclaimed her name, it was looking to be serious. Egliette had grown slower, unwilling to play anything that involved getting up and running around, and the colors of her dress and body had started to grey. Fleta had started to get very worried today, and she was relieved that Egliette was inviting her to do something.

Fleta followed the squeaky doll out onto the lawn of their beloved garden. Night had fallen, and the stars were shining bright in the sky. As Fleta stared up at them, they were beautifully reflected in her peridot eyes. 

Egliette saw the little girl’s face and smiled. It was full of wonder and innocence, things it hadn’t had for a while before Goldia had come back after such a long time. In fact, the longer Egliette looked at Fleta, the more she looked like that special girl with a name bathed in gold.

“Fleta, you must know something about me.”

Fleta snapped out of her gaze into the heavens. “Wha-what? I mean, I guess… what could I possibly not know about you at this point?” Fleta was trying to lighten the mood.

Egliette sighed internally.  _ Far too much.  Should I really tell her? _

This was something she had been keeping from Fleta for a long time. But now, Fleta deserved to know. And at this point, Fleta wouldn’t be as alarmed as she would’ve been before, when she was lonely and on the brink of insanity. She couldn’t get in the way like she would have had she known sooner. Egliette drew a breath and began:

“Fleta, do you remember the day you first met me?”

“Yes!” Fleta responded without hesitation. “You were a beautiful shooting star! You came down and landed right in my lap!”

“Indeed.” Egliette paused. “But now…”

“But now what?” Fleta said nervously.

“But now I must leave. I have to move on just as you did, and will hopefully continue to do so.”

“Leave?! Why?!”

Egliette crossed the lawn and leaned against the statue of Goldia. Fleta followed, standing next to her.

“I am not like you or the other girls. I do not share a name or a body with Goldia, and it’s time I stop sharing her mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I am not Goldia.”Egliette turned and their eyes met. “I just cared too much about her to leave her to her own devices against the evil I had so carelessly resigned her to.”

Fleta froze. That sentence just told her so much, so much that she wasn’t sure it was true.

“...Mother?” she said quietly, searching in Egliette’s eyes for something she hadn’t seen before. And that’s exactly what she found.

She saw eyes full of sorrow at having to leave, yet full of joy for having been able to spend time with the Lilliputian Princess.

She saw eyes full of remorse for what she had done, yet full of peace for how she had been there for the brave girl she had brought into the world in her hour of need.

She saw eyes full of the weight of the last sixteen years of her life, but full of hope for the rest of the years allotted to her dear daughter’s.

It was too much. Fleta sank to her knees, hugging Elise harder than she had ever hugged her before, doll or not. Tears streamed down her face.

“But… why didn’t you ever tell me before, mom?”

“My dear Fleta, when I met you, you refused to understand any of what was happening. If I had told you, you would’ve been scared of your mother.” Elise paused. “That all changed when I helped Goldia save you from yourself in this very garden. Your eyes have been opened, and you know that I was only here to help undo the damage I had done.”

Fleta nodded, shaking as she held Elise up against the stars in the sky above the trees, framing the tired doll. “But why do you have to leave?”

Elise sighed. “I have grown so tired, Fleta. It’s time for me to move on, see what awaits me on the other side, and see if I can ever find your father, and your brother. I have so much to explain, and I need to move on.”

“But I don’t want you to move on! I want you to stay here with me!”

“Don’t worry Fleta, we shall meet again. Please don’t let my absence cripple you. I want Goldia to blossom into a happy woman with a family that loves her and a mind that supports her. Will you help her achieve that?”

Fleta sniffed. “Okay. I… I can do that. I will do that.”

“That’s my princess.” Elise smiled. “Hold your memories close to your heart. And remember, this time you are not alone.”

The doll began to glow a blue as blue as the sky between the stars. She floated up and out of Fleta’s hands, shooting up and over the trees, out of view.

Unbeknownst to Fleta, she had not left yet. Fleta was not the only one she needed to speak to.

 

“I know.” Lisette answered quietly, looking at the snow-covered ground her feet stood on.

Elise nodded. “I figured you did, but I had to be sure.”

“Why are you here?” Lisette gazed into Elise’s eyes. There, she saw exactly what Fleta had seen. Before, all she’d seen was remorse, sorrow and weight. But now she could see the hope, joy and peace as well. Lisette realized that although she had often lumped Fleta and Egliette together in her madness, they were very different people, and not just literally. Lisette was suddenly overcome with gratitude for a woman she had for so long mistakenly cursed for all the things Goldia had done to her. In reality, Elise had almost always been there, trying her best to appease Fleta and keep her occupied. The resentment she had once held toward her own mother left her, and the thought of crucifying her with scissors now sickened Lisette. How ungrateful she had been. Elise spoke.

“I’m here to apologize for everything I’ve done to you. Everything that has happened to you would never have been if not for my selfishness. ”

“You don’t need to say that, mother.” Lisette crouched and hugged the doll.

“Thank you, my child. I wish you good luck.”

Elise once again took to the sky, through countless snowflakes and illuminated by the glowing violet moon.

 

“What happened to Egliette?” Goldia asked Fleta the next night. They were sitting on the couch in her planetarium, staring into the night sky. Goldia had noticed that Fleta was missing her doll.

“Oh, she went back into the sky.” Fleta replied quickly.

Confused, Goldia instead decided to listen to her thoughts, to share her memory. What she heard stunned her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, staring at Fleta as the little girl kept staring into the sky.

“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

“I was sad. I needed to think.”

Goldia was impressed. Fleta taking time to think was actually quite nice.

“Hey! I heard that!”

“I’m sorry, Fleta.” Goldia giggled. “But seriously? This entire time, and she waits until now to tell me?’

“Yeah… that’s kinda how I felt too…” Fleta paused. “Hey! Do you think she told anyone else?”

“I doubt she told Harpae or Enjel, but I would be shocked if she didn’t pay Lisette a visit.”

_ Don’t worry, she did. _ Goldia heard.

_ That’s nice. What did she say? _

_ Nothing she needed to. She just needed to let me see her eyes. _

Fleta and Lisette shared that memory with her. It was even more astounding than she expected.

 

Chapter 1

 

“It’s just not fair! What a jerk! I hate him!”

Goldia sighed again, as did everyone else. Even if they felt the same way, being the same person, Fleta constantly whining about it was not helping.

“We are well aware of that. Are you going to keep ranting all the way to our uncle’s house?” thought everyone, but said Harpae.

“He just took all the stuff we grew up with! Our house, our money, our toys!” Fleta pouted, with emphasis on the last one. As sick as everyone was of her complaining, it could soon become a reality. When Goldia had awoken, and, several days after Egliette had left, convinced the hospital that she was stable enough to leave, she had found that Oswald Die Heilge, her father Roman Per Die Heilige’s brother, had started positioning himself to take control of her assets while she was sleeping. However, her awakening put quite a hiccup in his plans. But, fortunately, because Roman Per’s will held that Oswald was only in a position of maintaining it, and not owning it, while his heirs were still alive, Oswald was forced to move his sixteen-year-old niece with an ugly mental history to live with her mother’s brother. She knew nothing about him, and she was to stay with him supposedly until she was twenty-one, while her uncle took the opportunity to start building his case in earnest to get rid of her. Goldia didn’t know what to do to stop him.

Lisette looked as if she was about to say something, then stopped.

“What is it, Lisette?” Goldia asked.

“...all that wealth has done for us is destroy our family. I think it’s a good thing you’ll never set foot in that house again. I certainly don’t need those memories, and… neither do any of you.” She finished, looking around at everyone except Enjel, who noticed with a small flash of irritation.

Goldia saw the wisdom in this, and thus did everyone. Fleta was calmed.  _ She  _ was calmed. They thought as one for the rest of the trip, saying little but thinking plenty with Goldia. Perhaps the Die Heilige home was not worth the worry. Oswald couldn’t do much while she was still alive anyway, and if he wanted to make progress, she’d have to get involved again. She resolved to push it from her mind for now.

Outside her mind, the carriage gently carried her sleeping through the midday forest.  In her white dress’s pocket was her beautiful golden pocket mirror, and in the trunk at the back of the carriage, several more of her belongings. So it went until mid afternoon.

 

The carriage driver pulled on her dress’s shoulder, rustling her awake as he called for her to wake up. She came to, refreshed by her sleep. She yawned, checked her pocket to ensure her little mirror was still there, and hopped out as he stepped out of the way. They were at her stop, in front of a small house in the village of Keiferburg. The sleepy village was quietly going about its afternoon business. People were chatting and working with each other on their gardens, farms and homes. The driver lifted her trunk off the carriage and escorted her to the front door of the home of her uncle.

He knocked. He waited. He knocked again, harder this time, and after some sounds of heavy, tired and fast footsteps, the door opened.

Goldia’s uncle was a middle-aged man of decent build. He wasn’t short but not particularly tall either. His hair had been done by his bed, and was a short brown mess. His eyes were a warm brown that bordered on gold and his face was kind, with laugh lines and a thin beard. He wore a wrinkled and worn shirt and overalls. He looked her up and down in her simple white dress, his tired eyes taking in what his brain would have registered as vaguely familiar if he hadn’t just woken up or had seen her before. He turned to the carriage driver, questions on his face.

“Are you Fritz Leidl, Elise Leidl Die Heillige’s brother?” The driver asked.

“Aye, that’s me. What seems to be the trouble?”

“There’s no trouble, I’m actually here to drop her off and be gone. She’s your niece, Elise’s second child. Her name is Goldia Die Heillige, and since her mother and father are both deceased and she’s not yet old enough to inherit their property, she’s being sent to live here with you.”

“I see… well, uh…” he glanced in Goldia’s direction, and continued, “alright. I’ll… take good care of her. Who do you work for?”

“Her father’s brother, Oswald Die Heilige. He lives in Vienna.”

“Vienna? I see.” Fritz was impressed externally. But he was irritated internally. He wouldn’t say it aloud, as the poor girl was standing in front of him, but why did he have to take care of her? He was suspicious Oswald was much better off, living in Vienna and employing a carriage driver. Why was she his responsibility?

“There will be a letter with further details from Oswald.” The driver laid down Goldia’s trunk he’d been carrying, turned and started walking back to his carriage. “Expect it sometime next week. Auf Wiedersehen!” he called over his shoulder.

Goldia stood alone before her uncle, whose annoyed gaze followed the man till his horses started off.

 

Fritz broke the silence. “Come on inside. I have a lot of questions for you. I knew Elise had a daughter, but it seems your brother got most of the talk. Not that we heard much of him either.” he said, gesturing to her. Goldia was anxious but doing a good job remaining composed as she passed him into his small house.

_ What kind of questions will he ask? _

_ Does he want to keep me at all, or get rid of me? _

And her uncle was thinking, as she passed him with her eyes to the floor,

_ What happened to her family? What happened to  _ her _? _

_ Can I take care of her? Am I good enough? _

Uncle Fritz’s house was small, a shed by comparison to her old home. It had three rooms; a kitchen/storage room across from a living room with a fireplace, a bookshelf, and a few chairs around a sofa, and a bedroom beyond a door between them. Goldia had entered into the living room, and Fritz sat down, gesturing for her to sit as well.

“I know it’s no mansion, but I take care of my house.” He said as she seated herself across from him on the couch. “That includes people I am responsible for. Not the first part, obviously. You look grander than any mansion!” He chuckled. Goldia couldn’t help but smile. Relief was building up, but she dared not let it convince her of anything yet. Uncle Fritz noticed her smile, and seemed relieved as well. He continued.

“First things first. I am Fritz Leidl, your mother Elise’s brother. But you can just call me Uncle Fritz. I know the carriage driver said it, but I don’t recall your name. Gloria, was it?”

“Goldia.”

“Goldia. That’s a pretty name. Goldia Die Heilige, eh? You remind me a lot of your mother. You have her smile, and your eyes have the same endearing but striking look to them.”

She nodded with a smile.

“Well, let’s unpack your trunk while we talk. You only have one, so it shouldn’t take too long.” He stood up, then paused, thinking.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Hmmmm…. I only have one bedroom in my home, so I suppose it’s yours now. I will sleep on the furniture in this room…”

Goldia was horrified.  _ I can’t just take his bed! It’s his, and besides, I bet it’s a mess and smells like a working man!  _  “You don’t have to do that. This sofa will suit me.”

Fritz shook his head. “You are a young lady, and my guest. My niece, no less. You need a private space to yourself.” He paused and thought a little more as Goldia frowned slightly, but got his point. “You’ll also need somewhere to keep your clothes. I’ll clean out and give you one of my dressers. I have so many clothes that I’ve worn out anyways at this point.” 

“That’s very kind of you.” she said.

“Thank you, I try.” Fritz went into his room and gestured for her to follow.

His room was small, like the rest of his house, but it wasn’t cramped and it had decent airflow. His bed was big enough for him and another adult, which was plenty of space for his niece, who was also relieved to see that it was actually pretty well made and didn’t smell.

He went over to one of two dressers and started to empty out the clothes on the floor, in a pile. Goldia watched, not sure what to do.

“Y’know, you’re real polite for having spent your life living like a princess.” he remarked, his eyes on his task. “Not ‘princess’ polite, obviously. Just… actually polite polite.”

“Well… thank you. It certainly had its difficulties but it was by no means a difficult life… until I got older…”

“Oh yes? What happened? It must’ve been bad, if my sister and her husband didn’t survive.” Fritz was startling casual about his sister not being around anymore. They must have lost touch when she’d left.”Say,what happened to her son? Wasn’t his name Hamri or something?”

“Yes… but…”

“Nevermind. Let’s just start at the beginning.” he said reasonably. “I’m almost done emptying my rubbish, by the way. Do you have anything besides clothing packed?”

“Yes.”

Fritz waited for her to elaborate but after she said nothing for several seconds, he asked: “Well? What?”

“A few items that were very important to me.”

“Ah, heirlooms, correct?” Fritz stood up, having finished emptying the drawers.

“You… could say that.”

Fritz did a mental eye roll. He raised an eyebrow at her and said: “What are you hiding from me? I won’t take it away, I promise.”

“It’s difficult to explain what they are exactly… here, let me show you.” Goldia returned to the living room, and came back with the six precious regalia, golden and exquisite. She laid them out on the bed.

Fritz was impressed by the shiny mirror, bell, cutlery, brush, scissors and miniature scythe. Goldia saw his face and was extremely relieved. This was one of the things that had worried her the most; her uncle would call them “unholy” or “cursed” and order her to throw them out. But she could see that that was not the look he was giving them.

“Those are some very nice pieces.” Fritz said with a whistle. “I will not touch them if you don’t want me to.” Goldia nodded, grateful. Her uncle was a real gentleman, and she counted herself very lucky to have been sent to live with him.

For his part, Fritz considered himself very lucky to have such a polite niece. She had gone through some very easy and very hard times both. He wanted to know more about her and what had become of his sister he hadn’t seen in so long.

“Well…” he began. “Do you want to sort your clothes or should I?” he was pretty sure he knew what the answer was.

“I’ll do it myself, thank you.” she went back to her trunk in the living room and put the regalia back where they’d been. He smiled to himself. “Could you carry the trunk? It’s pretty heavy for me…” she called.

“Of course.” Fritz came and lifted the trunk, carrying it back to Goldia’s bedroom and placing it on the floor next to the dresser.

“Thank you.” She knelt down and started to sort her clothes into the drawers. Her uncle took a seat behind her, not sure what to say as she went about organizing.

“Well… where do I start? I have so many questions...” he said.

“Hmmm…” Goldia said, equally perplexed as to where to begin, and preoccupied.

“I know! Do you know how your mother  got so rich in the first place? Why that gallant Roman Per sought for her so much over so many other goals and women he must have had to choose from? Because that’s the first part I don’t understand; how she managed to get his attention in the first place. Not that she wasn’t gorgeous,” he added, “but it still baffles me why he would come to this village just for her, without even knowing who she was beforehand.”

Goldia had a guess for this, and while she knew some parts of it were true, most of it was speculation. “Well…” she slowed to a halt  in her work. “ Do you... believe in wishes?”

Fritz raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you believe in beings that can influence the world in your favor, but ask something in return?” Goldia knew she sounded stupid, but she knew what she knew. And this was a great point to find out if she should tell the whole truth or omit things, maybe even tell a different story, depending on his reaction to this crucial point. Demons and their powers were the fundamental problem of her and her mother’s lives, and if he couldn’t understand that, then there was no point in-

“I’m not sure what I think about that.” Fritz spoke, interrupting her train of thought. “There’s no evidence that says they can’t exist, but up until now I have only heard rumors and myths, nothing very proving.” He paused, looking at his niece’s surprised face. “But based on the look on your face and the way you pose the question, I’m assuming that it’s a major part of your past. Please tell me more.”

“So... you’d be willing to listen if my story included one of those beings?”

“Of course. My curiosity is thoroughly aroused.” he said without hesitation.

Goldia’s eyebrows went up. Her uncle was almost too good to be true. But he seemed sincere. In fact, she felt he was easily the most sincere person she had ever met. Even more sincere than she considered a few of her selves.

“Well...” she began, sitting up. “Do you remember her with a pair of deep red shoes?”

 

The young-looking woman was walking quietly through the woods, carrying her basket over her arm. The trees were not very tall, but they were certainly taller than her, dimming the sunlight as it passed through the canopy. She was deep in thought, as anyone in her position would be. She was formulating a plan, after all.

She’d walked this forest for many, many, many years. Many years more than would normally be possible for a single human to spend. Always alone, yet never alone. Contemplating plenty of the same things for many years, she’d grown tired of thinking idly. Her thoughts, at this point, were either very direct and focused or were not at all, for the majority of the time.

She was nearly finished fleshing out the idea in her head, but as she often did at that point, she took a seat against a tree and opened her basket, withdrawing a very special item from within, and thought idly about it, allowing the plan to complete itself in her subconscious.

It was, of course, a wand. A small tool used by her for near absolutely nothing, but by her master for near absolutely everything when he wanted something from her. Really, the wand was not for casting spells or performing tricks. It was for binding the owner to her duty, and for granting that owner several passive powers. For example, it convinced her body that it was in fact not over a century old, and told it to continue existing as though it were in its prime.

Holding the wand in her hand, the woman had brief flashbacks of a time she’d nearly lost it.

Five little girls, pleading for a turn to use it.

Five little girls, promising they’d return it.

Five little girls, pretending they’d lost it.

Four little girls, learning a lesson they would never forget.

The witch sighed, and put it back. She closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep in the warm light under the tree.

  
  


Chapter 2

_ Where is everyone? _

Goldia found herself alone in her head. She figured this was good on some level, but it was disorienting and made her worry.

“Over here, silly…” came a hurt-sounding voice. Goldia turned and saw a dejected-looking Enjel and Fleta sitting slumped with a small gap between them on a marble bench with yellow and red roses at its base, staring at their feet.

“Ah…”

_ Why do they look so sad? _

_ Where are Lisette and Harpae? _

“We’re not sad!” Fleta snapped, then quieted, “We’re just… bummed… that’s all…”

Enjel rolled her eyes, but nodded to this.

Goldia decided to just speak her mind, as it didn’t matter if she said it or thought it in here.

“What’s wrong? We had a great day today! Uncle Fritz seems very nice. I think I’ll be safe here with him, and happy.”

“We didn’t do anything fun today.” said Fleta. “I felt so useless.”

“I just always feel useless.” Enjel mumbled. Goldia realized that it was the first thing she’d to her directly said since she’d left the hospital.

“I’m so sorry…” Goldia paused, thinking. “What exactly do you do, Enjel? What do you represent in me?”

Enjel looked up. “You tell me, I’m  _ your  _ personality.”

“I did not make you.”

Enjel shrugged. “I was made  _ out  _ of you.”

“I…” Goldia thought for a moment. “I’ll have to find that out. But don’t be sad, alright? Both of you. There will be fun things to do, and I’m sure I’ll find out what your purpose is, Enjel.”

They both nodded once, Fleta noticeably more convincingly. Goldia decided to move on.

“Anyways, where are the other two?”

Fleta and Enjel said nothing. But they started thinking to her instead.

**_Why would they be distinguishable from you tonight after how you handled today?_ **

“You mean, the more I act like one or more of you, the less I see you and instead just see myself?” Goldia asked.

Nods.

**_It must be great, to be where they are right now.  Connected. In command._ **

“But that’s scary! If I act too much like you then you disappear from my mind?!”

“Of course not, silly.” Fleta said aloud, raising her head. “Just because you can’t see them like you used to doesn’t mean they aren’t there. All you have to do to see what they look like is look in that little mirror.”

Goldia reached into her pocket and pulled out the pocket mirror, opening it and looking inside. She saw only her own face staring back at her. “All I see is my face…”

“Well? Isn’t that all you’re supposed to see?” Fleta replied.

“Isn’t that all there is to see?” Enjel said, rolling her eyes again.

“Yes, but…” Goldia was hesitant. “I liked visualizing them separately, like advisors or something.”

“Goldia,” Fleta went on. “Why do you think you have an ‘ugly mental history’?”

_ Oops…  _ thought Enjel.

Goldia’s face visibly darkened and her red eyes shifted to a slightly more violet color. Fleta realized what she was thinking and raised her hands.

“No no no! I’m not blaming either of them! Please don’t get mad at me! I didn’t mean it like that!” Fleta put her face in her hands and started trembling. “I never want to say that about Lisette!”

Goldia relaxed a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Fleta.”

Fleta sniffed. Goldia sat down between the two and put her arm around the Lilliputian Princess. Enjel observed quietly.

“I think I understand, Fleta. You’re telling me that unless I stop thinking I’m not alone in my mind, that I am on any level separate from you, I will have a relapse? Maybe even forget you all over  again?”

Fleta turned to Goldia and nodded sadly. She rested her head on Goldia’s shoulder, who ran a gentle hand through her hair. Fleta stopped trembling and relaxed.

“Remember, forgetting you, either of you,” she glanced at Enjel, “is something that will never happen again.”

Fleta nodded slightly, but Enjel did not look reassured.

_ I wish I felt like I’d ever been known to you in the first place, that I’d even been forgotten,  _ Goldia heard Enjel think.

“Enjel, you were forgotten. I lost you just like I lost everyone else, and I found you just like everyone else.”

“But I tried to kill you! I tried to take your mirror!”

Goldia raised an eyebrow as her eyes once again briefly flashed violet.

“Ok… I get your point.” Enjel conceded. “I just…”

Goldia knew Enjel was still missing something.

“Enjel, you and I are not sure what exactly you mean or represent of me. But I and therefore you will find out, in time.”

Enjel said nothing.

“Thank you…” Fleta mumbled into Goldia’s sleeve.

Goldia smiled.  “I’m so proud of you.”

Fleta sat up and looked directly at Goldia’s face, looking for something.

_ What?  _ Thought Goldia.

“You sound just like Harpae.” Fleta said. “Come to think of it, you pretty much  _ are  _ Harpae tonight.”

Enjel shrugged.

Goldia’s eyes widened in mock surprise, then she thought of something and said, in a very soft voice, with her eyes shifting blue momentarily, “Thank you, my girl.”

All 4 of them laughed. Enjel did not.

 

Uncle Fritz was struggling to fall asleep in the living room, staring into the fireplace. He remembered the day that Elise had come home with a pair of deep red shoes. She was very proud of them. She’d said she had found them in a box in the woods near a tree stump.  Their mother had initially been pretty worried that they belonged to someone, but as a few days went by, she lost her worry. Unfortunately, Elise seemed to grow more worried with each passing day. She said very little. She started to dislike the shoes, yet required herself to wear them whenever she was out in public, which was quite often as the Leidls lived in the tavern, too poor to afford a house of their own and working for the keeper to keep their room.

Then one day, that Die Heilige type had come into the village, alone, on his horse. He said he was looking for a girl with deep red shoes. It was not unlike the prince from Cinderella looking for the girl with the glass slippers.

Of course, he found Elise fairly quickly, and when he saw her shoes, he took her to their mother, talking all the way. Then this rich Austrian asked if he could make her his wife, offering a dowry of several hundred guldens. Elise was extremely enthusiastic as well, and Fritz was very happy for her, if confused.

And so they were married, the Leidls moved into the house Fritz would inherit from Mrs. Leidl when she passed away, and Elise Leidl Die Heilige went to live in Vienna with her new husband.

And now he no longer looked at the story and wondered, “Why did that happen?”

He now looked at the story and wondered, “Why did she let that happen?”

Goldia had shown him his sister’s diary, which he had never seen before. He had known she could write, but he didn’t know she’d kept a journal. The beginning, anyway, which was really all that was left. It was an entry she titled Little Goody Two Shoes.

_ I once lived in a small village when I was young. My youth was spent in hard labor and cold, sleepless nights. I often dreamt of a better future, one that would fill my stomach with luxurious sweets and thick, expensive steaks. _

He completely understood this part. He could’ve written the exact same thing. But then the journal started giving him news.

_ One day, I met an old woman talking about a strange rumor… she said a certain someone had been granting wishes in the woods to anyone who dared summon a certain name. Someone who wasn’t quite… _

_ H _

_   U _

_       M _

_             A _

_                   N _

At the bottom, a crude crayon drawing of a large grin beneath an upside down cross.

This didn’t make sense and didn’t connect to much, but it opened theories. Goldia clearly knew more though, and he didn’t think she had any reason to lie.

She told him what she thought happened, and the more he thought of it, the more it made sense to him.

His sister had gone out to the woods after hearing this rumor and summoned this certain name. And she asked for riches and happiness. But then she had to give something up, and she did.

How could you sell people you didn’t even know yet? How could you sell people you knew you would bring into the world someday? Damn them before they were even the tiniest unborn baby? To sell your firstborn child… and then have twins.

All that for a pair of red shoes that Die Heilige would be given visions of and chase after. Suddenly Fritz despised his sister. What could he have done then anyway, had he known? The question got him nowhere. He rolled over again, away from the fire.

He was very interested in knowing more about his niece. His interest in his sister had taken a back seat. Goldia now seemed a much more worthwhile person.  More and more questions swirled around in his head.

_ Why did she stop communicating with us? She never visited, never wrote… _

_ How did she die? How did Roman Per die? _

_ How had Goldia survived, when her brother had been taken? _

His questions grew more curious.

_ What’s the significance of her beautiful set of regalia? _

_ What were  _ her  _ symptoms of possession? She covered her brother pretty well, but what about her? _

Then his mind wandered into more pressing and contemporary issues.

_ Why didn’t Oswald keep her? _

_ What will Oswald’s letter next week have for me to know? _

_ Will I be paid? Will I get to come home with her when she comes of age? _

And then, a darker line of thought.

_ Is she safe? Is that certain someone still out there, waiting for her to give it another opportunity? _

_ Is that why Oswald wouldn’t take her in? Was he scared? _

_...Could I even do anything to stop it from happening? _

He shuddered at that last thought. Maybe Oswald hadn’t taken her in because he was terrified of the same predator entering  _ his  _ home. Maybe even now, the thing was looking for her. Maybe it had found her.

Fritz, thoroughly unnerved by this, threw off his blanket, barely missing the fire with his gusto, and quietly but quickly crossed the room to Goldia’s bedroom door. He slowly opened it, trying not to make a sound as he checked on his niece.

But Goldia was sleeping peacefully, breathing gently. She had a warm smile on her face as she dreamed. It seemed there was nothing to worry about except getting enough sleep.

For now.

 

The hooded, middle-aged man laid down the two vases of fluid on the desk with a light thump. The nobleman, who had been asleep on the papers he’d been writing, snapped awake and rubbed his tired eyes as he examined what his associate had just given him. They were in his study, and it was past midnight. The sky outside the large window was clear.

“You found her?” He asked, yawning.

“Yes.” The man took off his hood. “She was eager to oblige.”

“Excellent.” The nobleman drew one of the containers to him, opened it, and sniffed it. There was no scent, but he still felt a tad sleepier for his sample. “I can’t believe I’m going to use this on myself…”

“Don’t worry, it won’t affect you at all.” The man said reassuringly.

“It just better work.”

 

_ You could see it in her eyes, she almost recognized me…  _ the hooded man thought as he closed the large door to the mansion behind him and struck out to his own home.  _ Perhaps if my eyes hadn’t been gold at the time, she could’ve seen the god-fearing man I am, and always was, despite that harrowing night she gave me... _

 

Chapter 3

 

The next morning came, and with it, breakfast time.

Goldia awoke a little past sunrise. Her uncle had decided to take advantage of waking up first and make breakfast for her so she didn’t have to wait after she came out of her room, looking for food.

She opened the bedroom door and entered into the front of the house, and stepped into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Uncle Fritz was finishing up some eggs and sausage, tending them over his stove. She took one of the three seats at the table. He hadn’t noticed she was there yet.

“Good morning, Uncle!” she said.

Fritz turned his head, following her voice, and saw her in her seat at the table. He smiled. “Good morning, Goldia. Did you sleep well?”

She yawned. “Yes. Thank you so much for letting me sleep in your room, it’s very comfy.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” he said pleasantly, turning back to his cooking. “Y’know, Goldia, I was thinking a lot about what you told me yesterday.”

“Yes?” she said nervously.

“And I realized how I still have so many questions. Even more than I had when you were first dropped off. Would you mind me asking even more? I have quite a lot, I don’t plan on asking them all at once, but I did have you going for a while yesterday and I don’t think you can answer all of them.”

“No, no, that’s fine. We can talk some more if you’d like.” she said, relieved. She wanted someone to tell this to, someone like Uncle Fritz, who listened and who was interested. It made it feel as real as it should’ve felt. As real as it was. “What’s on your mind?”

Uncle Fritz was now tasked with picking a question. He decided after a few moments and a drawn out “uuuuuuum” on “Well, I was thinking about those gorgeous regalia you showed me yesterday. Where did you get them? And what do they mean to you?”

_ Hmmmm. That first question is easy, but the second one is a lot more… complicated.  _ Goldia thought.

“Well… I got them all from my mother at one point or another.” she explained.

“Oh, so you keep them to remember her?” Fritz’s voice was neutral.

“No, not… exactly… but they do help me remember a lot of important things.”

“What things?”

“Well… it’s complicated. Is it okay if I tell you what they mean when they become important to my story?”

“Of course. That would probably be best.” Fritz said reasonably. He got out two plates and divided the eggs and sausages evenly onto each, and turned off the stove. He grabbed forks from a drawer and came over to the table, setting the plates down, then sat down across from Goldia.

“Are you religious?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m catholic.”

“Alright. Would you like to say grace?”

“Okay.” Goldia clasped her hands together, and Fritz did the same. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

They started to eat. Goldia, her mouth used to rich food, found the first few bites of sausage somewhat repulsive. But Fritz had done a good job, and she smoothly adapted without incident. They ate in silence for a few moments.

“I have a somewhat darker question for you, if you don’t mind.” Fritz broke it, and Goldia lifted her eyes from her food, listening but continuing to eat. “ We got to how Henri disappeared, but what happened to your mother and father? The carriage driver said they were deceased as well. What happened?”

“Oh…” Goldia paused. “I told you how mother was diagnosed with Melancholia?”

“You told me she was growing ill as you both grew up, but no. Is that what took her?”

“Eventually. I don’t remember her very well after she was bedridden; I hardly ever saw her after that.”

“I see. Sounds miserable. Sorry to ask, but I wanted to know.”

“You’re fine. Ask all the questions you want.” Goldia replied without hesitation. These facts of her past didn’t really bother her very much anymore. They’d bothered her for long enough, she’d decided. It was time for them to stop. Especially for Lisette’s sake.

“Thank you so much for your patience.” Fritz took a bite, thinking. “What about your father?”

“He drank himself to death while I was in the hospital, I’m told.” Goldia paused. “There are a few different claims, but that seems the most likely to me.”

“Different claims?”

“Yes, some say he committed suicide by poison. Others say he simply drank too much and his body couldn’t take it.”

“I see.” Fritz thought some more. “I have a more urgent and worrying question for you, I apologize.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is there…” he paused. “Is there a chance that that… being, who took your brother, is still out there, looking for you?”

Goldia went silent. She had never considered that. She had simply never had that strange boy cross her mind ever since she had walked through that bright door at the end of the darkness above Enjel’s staircase. But now that she thought about it, perhaps he was still out there. She still technically belonged to him, if she thought about it. And now, here she was, in the very village surrounded by the woods her mother had exchanged her name in.

“I…” she stuttered. Fritz raised his eyebrows. This was the first question he’d asked that seemed to make her uncomfortable, and that was not a good sign. “I- I don’t know for sure… I suppose he… could?”

Fritz looked at her, fear in his eyes. He had, on a subconscious level, considered everything Goldia said to be taken seriously and that included the demon figure. If he was out there, Fritz’s job of caring for Goldia had just gotten a lot more terrifying for him.

“How does he… How does he... “ Fritz stumbled.

“How does he try to take me?” Goldia finished for him.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Well… he usually appeared to me in my head, in my dreams, and if he got really powerful he could sometimes affect the way I saw the world around me and the way I acted.” Goldia paused for a moment. “Then, at some point, his plan is for me to give up and disappear.”

“Give up?”

“Yes, give in to him. You see, he was able to attack me and my brother when we were young, gullible, and had been granted access to by our mother. At some point, his lies and his illusions become your reality, and you just submit to him and disappear.”

Fritz was thoroughly unnerved by this. It was exactly what he’d been worrying about last night, and he had been on the right track, as he saw now. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again and spoke:

“Is there anything anyone aside from you can do to stop him? Can I help in any way?”

“Not that I know of… every exorcist who came to our family failed, as did every doctor, priest or man of profession.” Goldia was now also thoroughly shaken by the thought of another breakdown.

Fritz’s face was now very white. He had stopped eating, as had Goldia. They both stared at their food and thought. Fritz felt awful; he hadn’t meant to scare her.

Then, after several moments, Fritz had an idea. “There is a woman who frequents this village. She doesn’t live here, no one knows where she actually lives, but she does come through from time to time. I’m fairly sure she’s a witch, but a witch might be just what we need to know our enemy.”

Goldia sighed internally. She didn’t much like the idea of seeking  _ another  _ professional’s help, but this wasn’t some doctor or priest or well-spoken person. This was a witch. And while Goldia was Catholic, she was willing to give a possible expert a chance at determining how she could protect herself.

“That might be worth a try.” she said after a few moments. “When does she usually come by?”

“There isn’t anything ‘usual’ about her. Sometimes she appears twice a week, other times not for months.” Fritz resumed eating. He was nearly finished, and Goldia picked up her fork again so he wouldn’t have to wait for her when he did. “But for now, let’s get back to where we left off. I also have work to do today around the house, as always, and I would appreciate it if you could help me. Besides, then you could tell me more while we worked. You left off at the point where Henri disappeared, yes?”

“Yes, that sounds correct to me.” Goldia finished her food. “And I would be glad to help you work today. I don’t have much else to do around here yet anyways, and it does provide a splendid opportunity to tell you more.” But she felt like she needed to say something more. “But, could we play a game or two at the end of the day? Do something fun?”

Fritz smiled. He was glad his niece was still a kid on some level, that she wasn’t all doom and gloom. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Goldia felt a warm sensation at his confirmation of play. She’d pleased someone very special.

 

_ Over a century ago, on a dark night in Keifurberg… _

 

The middle-aged man was having the last nightmare he would have in his life. As he lay sleeping in his bed, he was tormented by visions of a family he’d ruined, of all the people he’d helped take so much from. He tried to cast them out, bearing his black rosary and calling them the heretics they were, trying to erase their pain and anger from his mind.

_ You’re all witches! _ He shouted to the visions.  _ We’ve burned you out of your bodies, and now it’s god’s duty to burn you out of your souls and out of my mind! _

But as many of them fell back and withdrew from his head, one remained. It was a little girl. He knew this one very well. But what was the most frightening thing about her, aside from her now-golden eyes and the little wand she held in her hand, was that he knew she wasn’t dead.

_ Impossible!  _ He shouted, waving his cross at her as she started advancing towards him.  _ Yo- you’re not dead! I was right! You were a witch all along! You and your whole- _

Her eyes flashed gold, and his rosary yanked itself out of his hand. It hovered in the air between them, and the little girl stared in concentration as, painfully slowly, it twisted itself upside-down. As it did, the man hollered in pain, sinking to his knees and grasping his chest. The girl watched as he crumpled to the floor, then she dropped the damaged, inverted cross to the ground. He shuddered as it impacted. Then, the little girl saw a deep yellow eye, whose pupil was a subtraction symbol, appear over the man’s crippled body. She turned and left his mind to the demon she’d just helped him welcome in.

_ Oh god, save me!  _ The man cried, turning and seeing the eye above him.

_ Why not let me save you instead? I have a much more reasonable price than him! _ A sickeningly pleasant voice echoed through the man’s head.

The man’s eyes widened, despite the immeasurable torment.  _ You? Save me? I think not, agent of lucifer! _

_ Do you fear god? _

_ Of course I do! _

_ Then let me take away your reason to. _

 

Chapter 4

 

“Checkmate!” Fritz moved his knight into position, endangering Goldia’s already immobilized king.

They were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, having just finished working that day. Fritz had shown her how to care for his chickens and had done the pigs himself. He had also watered his small wheat field with her. They hadn’t ended up talking much and had instead focused on their work, then come inside and sat down to a few games of chess after he made dinner, a simple but filling soup.

Goldia sighed in frustration. It had been a close game, but it looked grim now. She was scanning  the board for anything Fritz could have missed. It was unlikely, but the way the board was set up, one surprise move could save her king and cripple his.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the end…” Fritz said after a few moments. Then he started looking nervously around the board too. He’d beaten Goldia twice already, and if there was any weakness in his setup, she’d find it this round.

Then, she did. A bishop she’d almost forgotten was perfectly aligned to take down the knight, and at the same put Fritz in check. Looking at where her rooks were, the king couldn’t move to either side, and he had a pawn in front of him. Counter check mate. She saw this and took it, taking his knight and targeting the king.

Fritz had also neglected the bishop, and seeing the board now, he realized he had just lost the game for it. His pieces were all positioned trying to keep her king stuck, and none were in a position to threaten her bishop. He laughed.

“Well done, Goldia! That was a satisfying comeback.”

She beamed. “Thank you, Uncle. You’re a fun player, and tricky with those knights!”

They both laughed. Both previous games, he had sealed her king’s fate just like he had just now, but Goldia hadn’t turned it around then.

“Well, that’s enough chess for me, for today.” Fritz said.

“That’s fine, I’m ready to be done for now as well.”

“Anyways, let’s move to the living room and talk some more.” Fritz stood and put his chess set away above the pantry. He’d explained that his mother had bought it several years ago and he’d practiced it at the inn with some friends of his. Goldia hadn’t met anyone else in the village yet, she’d only exchanged passing greetings with people who passed the field behind her uncle’s house, on the far side of which and up to the treeline were his pigs and chickens. None of the people recognized her, and unlike in a city, where you saw hundreds of people you would never get to know, in this tiny village, you got to know everyone. Not knowing anyone made you feel much, much more alone in that tight-knit setting.

They sat down in the living room across from each other. 

“You had left off at the part where Henri disappeared, yes?” Fritz prompted.

“Yes, that sounds about right.” she responded. “Oh… did I ever tell you about my own condition at that point?”

“No, you focused entirely on Henri last night. Please tell me how you were doing.”

“I was… also ill. But in a very different way. You see, we lived far from town, and brother was a lousy playmate, but I needed a friend, so… I made one up.”

“Oh, like an imaginary friend?” Fritz said. “I had one of those when I was little. Y’know, for when I was angry at my sister.” he chuckled.

“Not quite. She was an imaginary friend, but she was also… something much more. She was another personality.”

“Another personality? What exactly does that mean?”

“It meant I had a mental disorder. Multiple Personalities disorder. And she was the first personality I created.”

“Tell me more about her.”

“Her name is Fleta. She-”

“Is?” Fritz interrupted.

“Yes… I actually still have them around in my head, but I only see them in dreams.”

“But… is that healthy? Shouldn’t they just go away and let you govern your mind alone?”

“But…” Goldia stammered. “Can I at least tell you more about them first?”

Fritz sighed. “Alright. Go ahead.”

“Fleta is a playful kid I could spend time with. She likes pink and green and dolls and all sorts of little-girl things. She can also be quite a brat and a pain to be around.”

“I can see that. Especially if she became independent enough to disagree with you, that means you’re head must have gotten real screwed up.”

Goldia blushed. “Fleta is a close friend of mine. She’s funny and sweet and-”

Fritz was looking at her with a look he’d never given her before. She stopped. “...what? Did I say something wrong?”

“Do they have any influence over the way you behave and think while you’re awake?”

“No.” Goldia said immediately, and with resolution. Fritz saw it, and was pleased.

“Very well. You had me very worried that you were at risk of a relapse for a minute there.”

The words stung. Goldia opened her mouth, then closed it. Her face grew very red.

_ How dare you!? I was allowed to leave that hospital for a reason, and it was very hard to overcome my disorder. I DO NOT have a disorder. I DO NOT have a disorder. I DO NOT have a disorder. _

_ But wait. This sounds familiar. “There’s nothing wrong! I don’t have a disorder!” when you really did have a problem is something that has happened before. _

Goldia was shaken by this thought.

Perhaps they did need to just stop being separate, in her mind or in her dreams at all.

But to merge with them, she had to act like them.

But she couldn’t act like Fleta anymore; she’d long outgrown her. Today’s play hadn’t been her thing at all.

She didn’t even know how to represent Enjel in her behaviour. That girl was a mystery, and a troublesome one at that.

But she needed to get rid of them somehow…

“Hello? Goldia? Are you listening to me?” Fritz waved a hand in front of her face. He’d been talking, but she had been lost in thought. “I was trying to apologize to you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings but it’s not healthy for your mind to be divided like that. How many people are in there anyway?”

“Five.” Goldia said.

_ But not for long. _

 

Fritz lay wide awake on the couch that night, his eyes staring into the fireplace. Its warmth did little to bring him comfort after the curt exit his niece had made.

_ What did I do wrong? It isn’t right for someone to have multiple people in their head. It put her in the hospital. And she doesn’t need a mental disorder if that thing is still after her. _

That was really one of the most unnerving things to him. The fact that neither of them knew if there was anything to worry about from that demon. Then another question came into his mind.

_ If she had a mental disorder, is it possible that the demon is also not real? That that was just another symptom of her illness, seeing a strange boy coming to take her soul? _

At that moment, there was a knock at the door.

Fritz nearly flew out of the couch. He fell on the floor with a thud in his scramble to stand up, then stood up and quickly walked to the door, his thoughts not in the best place for greeting someone.

He reached the door and opened it.

Before him on the porch stood a woman, young and fair, with flowing purple hair reaching to below her waist, and a simple dress of the same color. Her eyes were a humbled gold, and they fit well with her large straw hat held together with a red ribbon. In both hands, she held a small basket. Everything about her face spoke of mystery you shouldn’t ask her about, both for her sake and yours. The way she carried herself only amplified this message. He had seen this woman before, on her occasional passes through the village. But he’d never actually found out what her name was. She and Elise had spent a lot of time together before she’d moved out, but she didn’t seem to change at all when Elise had left in terms of how she treated everyone else in the village: silence, broken only by the barest minimum of speech to get by. “Excuse me.” if she bumped into you. “How much for such and such?” when she wanted to buy something. She was the suspected witch he’d recommended to Goldia that morning. And here she was, staring at him.

“...Yes? What do you want?” he said brusquely, put off by her silence and her extremely suspicious appearance. It occurred to him that she might be working with the demon. But if she was working with the demon, didn’t that make him real too? In which case, he wasn’t a figment of Goldia’s imagination… which meant that Goldia  _ really _ had to get her head all the way back together again, he thought.

“I am here to see your niece. She needed help, yes?” the woman’s voice was soft but clear.

“Help with what?” Fritz’s voice became a growl.

“Help with staying safe. You know what I’m talking about.”

“What do you want? How did you find out?”

“I have my ways, especially with minds as unstable as hers. It’s hard to miss, actually. I just wanted to ask if I could talk with her.”

“No.” Fritz was now solidly entrenched. There was no way this woman, this witch, was getting anywhere near his niece if he had anything to say about it. And have something to say about it, he did.

“Very well. I will still be in town for a few days, in case you change your mind.” she said, turning and walking away, down the street.

_ Fat chance.  _ He thought. He’d been interested in seeking her out, not being sought out. That had deeply unsettled him. As far as he was concerned, she should now be considered a threat.

 

The girl opened her pink eyes. She wore a regal, blindingly white and pink outfit, and held a scepter containing a little golden pocket mirror on its end. All around her was a vast white expanse of clouds littered with little pink crosses and mirrors. Behind her was a large red chair surrounded by four smaller red cushioned sitting stools. Two of them were occupied, one by Harpae and the other by Lisette. She turned around and approached the stools and their occupants. Behind the chair was a mirror on a dresser, facing away from the chair.

Harpae and Lisette looked at her in confusion. Even though Harpae couldn’t see, she could tell something was off. She wasn’t who they had been expecting. Fortunately for them, she had been expecting them.

Unfortunately for two others, she expected the other two stools to remain empty. So, she took her scepter and deleted them.

“Goldia?” said Harpae nervously. She didn’t know what exactly had happened, but she knew something was missing, something that had been there for a long time. “What are you doing?” Lisette put a finger to her lips. She didn’t want to annoy this entity, Goldia or not.

The pink-eyed girl smiled at them, and wandered off into the clouds.

After a few minutes, there was the sound of a scythe swinging through the air, followed by a scream.

Several more minutes passed.

Then, farther in the distance, a bell started ringing softly. It grew louder and louder very rapidly, then abruptly silenced.

The two looked at each other, then at the two empty spaces where stools had once been. Harpae started trembling in fear.

But Lisette began trembling with something else. The edges of her forehead were beginning to darken. It was not Checkmate yet.

 

_ About two weeks ago… _

 

“What do you want from me?!” demanded the woman.

“I want to purge the demon from your soul, and make you clean in the eyes of god.” the doctor recited the lie.

“You’re hurting me! You’re hurting her! You’re hurting all of her!” the woman cried out. Her pain was intense; his exorcism was nothing to scoff at. She’d taken a great deal of punishment.

“You will thank me when this is over.” the doctor reassured. “And remember, all the suffering you experience is of the Devil. When he leaves, your pain will cease.”

“I- She needs a doctor, not a priest!” she protested.

“Your brother has trusted me to look after your well-being, and if I were to pretend this were a secular ailment, I would do you a disservice.”

The woman screamed as the painful practice continued. She wanted to leave her own body, her own mind, far more than the demon did.

Chapter 5

The deeply lost pink-eyed girl returned to view. Her scepter had two small cracks in it, but her smothering composure remained untouched. Perhaps the thing about her that sickened Lisette the most was her smile. It did not belong on her face. It was confident, plain, and simple. It perfectly captured how she felt about what she’d just done.

“Who are you?” Lisette said slowly, her tone as dark as her face was becoming.

The girl looked directly at her, with no change in her expression. “My name is Platinum.” her voice was exactly like Goldia’s, but it wasn’t the voice she used to address a close friend. It was her voice when she was addressing someone she felt below her.

She extended her hand to the Sleeping Maiden of Horrors. “Come now, my girl. It is time for you to join us.”

“Us?” Lisette said, turning to Harpae. Harpae was holding still, perfectly still, staring into the distance but at the same time seeing nothing. Her chest was not rising and falling. It was as if she’d been frozen in time. Lisette turned back to Platinum, her eyes nearly invisible through the fog over them.

“Yes, us.” Platinum said, still with that smile.

“Where is Goldia?” Lisette demanded, slowly reaching into her pocket. Platinum noticed but did not seem to care.

“She is present, but not entirely. It is my role to correct that, and ensure that she is the only one in this space that has been polluted for so long: her mind.”

“Polluted?”

“Yes. Polluted.” Platinum’s smile faded. “Now, little one, which are you? Are you Goldia, or are you a pollutant?”

“Is she a pollutant?” Lisette pointed a finger at Harpae’s statue-like form.

“No. But that’s not what I asked you.” Platinum tapped the ground with the butt end of her scepter.

“I…” Lisette paused.

_ Am I a pollutant? Were we all pollutants this entire time?  _ Thought Lisette.  _ That doesn’t sound right at all! We’ve done nothing to hinder her since she came to her senses… _

_ But aren’t we the reason she lost her senses in the first place? _

“I’m waiting.” came Platinum’s voice. Lisette’s eyes widened.

_ She can’t hear me think. She does not belong in here. _

“I am The Sleeping Maiden of Horrors.” Lisette stood, drawing Schnee Shere and pointing it at Platinum’s face.  “And you are not welcome here.” the space around them shifted from blinding white to dim, the clouds replaced with ugly, deteriorated stone walls and a wooden floor. The stools, the chair, and the dresser were gone. Lisette and Platinum were no longer in that space.

Platinum’s eyes shifted to gold. “Then I shall make myself welcome here.”

“You are not Goldia! LEAVE!” Lisette shouted with rage and threw her scissors in an overhead swing of her arm at Platinum’s head. Platinum ducked and swung her scepter. It hit nothing; Lisette was no longer there. Platinum turned around, seeing that Lisette had teleported to her weapon.

Lisette pulled the scissors out of the wall. They were undamaged. She drew another pair, this one rusty and old. She charged again, swinging her scissors from both sides at once. Platinum flashed pink just before impact, and Lisette’s scissors bounced off and sent her flying backwards, lying on her back.

“You insolent parasite!” Platinum leapt into the air, her scepter shining red hot as she plunged downwards on Lisette. But Lisette rolled out of the way, dodging as the staff cooked the ground she had been laying on moments before.

 

Uncle Fritz quietly opened the bedroom door. There was Goldia, asleep. But her face looked somewhat pained. There was no peace in her expression. His eyes widened as she slowly curled into a ball under the covers, laying on her side. Her eyes were shut tight, and he suspected that she wasn’t actually asleep.

“Goldia?” he called softly. “Can you hear me?”

There was no response. He walked over to the bed, and gently lifted one of her eyelids. He leapt back in surprise, landing on his rump in a loud thud. But Goldia showed no reaction.

Her eye had been a not-so-humble-anymore gold.

Fritz shot up and ran out of her room, and to the front door. Opening it, he rushed noisily out into the dark street outside.

_ That cursed witch! Where could she be?! _

He started to head in the direction she had gone, but then realized he was leaving Goldia alone in the house. He stood on the street in front of his house, turning back and forth. He was torn. He couldn’t do anything for Goldia by going back inside, but what if something even worse tried to happen to her while he was away?

Fritz grabbed his forehead in frustration. It was just as he’d feared. He was in a position where he couldn’t do anything. He had a feeling the witch or someone else would enter the house while he was out hopelessly lost looking for her. But if he stayed, he couldn’t help Goldia himself either. 

“Gott verdammt!” he cursed, rudely loud in the quiet night village.

He sighed, wrung his hands at the clear summer sky, and walked back inside, locking the door behind him.

Fritz sat down heavily on a chair in the corner of Goldia’s room, wide awake and watching her. His thoughts had not been kind to him last night, and tonight was no different.

_ What did I do wrong? Is it my fault she was targeted tonight? She was so different when she excused herself to go to bed.  Did I say something? _

He thought of standing and rousing Goldia. But what could happen to her if he woke her up while she was in such a trance? Would it snap her out of it? Or would it do something awful to her mind and carry into waking life somehow? He decided not to risk it.

_ Oh, why must I sit and watch helplessly? Why must that damned witch and her master work in such an unseeable and untouchable way? _

He rested his chin on his fists, leaning forward. He was wide awake, and would remain so for quite some time.

 

Lisette threw another series of wild swings with her dual scissors. Platinum blocked and parried each of them with ease, and returned with a few of her own, which Lisette dodged and weaved through, closing the gap and thrusting her scissors at Platinum’s torso. Platinum jumped back and swatted Lisette’s wrists, causing her to cry out and nearly drop her scissors. Lisette’s eyes flashed red as she saw a few more cracks appear in Platinum’s scepter, the part which enclosed the pocket mirror at the end which she’d just been struck with. Platinum noticed the damage as well, and didn’t hide the first loss of her composure this caused very well. Lisette had a new target.

Lisette started attacking the scepter instead of Platinum in her next few slices, cutting at the glass around the mirror with her scissors. Platinum’s weakness was discovered, and she knew it. So she also decided to change tack. Unfortunately for Lisette, she couldn’t hear Platinum’s thoughts either.

_ This one must not survive. As long as she continues fighting, he cannot do anything to her. _

_ It’s time to change targets. _

Platinum deflected Lisette’s scissors and kicked her away. The room changed as Lisette scrambled back on her feet. Looking around, she saw that they had returned to the cloudy expanse. Behind her were the two remaining stools, Harpae still like a statue, and the chair.

Platinum charged Lisette, raising her scepter. Lisette brought her scissors together, ready to block a blow.

But Platinum stopped in front of Lisette, bringing down the scepter’s butt end on the ground and launching over her head in a flash of white. She landed behind Lisette and started sprinting to the girl sitting still, whose blind eyes showed no reaction as the scepter was raised into the air once more.

Lisette bolted but knew she wouldn’t be fast enough. She threw her scissors at Platinum’s raised scepter, aiming for the imprisoned mirror.

The rusty ones missed. But Shnee Shere flew true.

The glass shattered and the pocket mirror flew out of it, and would’ve landed on the ground if it hadn’t been snatched out of its trajectory by the Maiden of Pristine Eyes’s gentle hand.

Platinum collapsed to the ground, and her outfit started to change. Her bright pink and white dress was replaced with a white blouse and blue skirt. Goldia sat up on her knees and threw the scepter away from the furniture, away from them all. It shattered into glass that evaporated in seconds. The clouds disappeared from all around them, as did the furniture. Her eyes returned to red.

Goldia cried, her face in her hands as she knelt. The other two sat beside her, hands on her shoulders. They said nothing, but they heard her thoughts.

 

They saw a woman with purple hair and golden eyes talking to Goldia. They heard them speak.

“So you’re the woman my uncle was talking about?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how to help me absorb them all?”

“Yes.”

“Can you please help me do this?”

“Yes. Give me your pocket mirror. I need it to tell them that I represent you.”

A long pause. “Alright. Here, be careful with it.”

“I will not lose it.”

Goldia stopped the woman as she started to turn around, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Yes?” she asked.

“What do you get out of this?”

“A single chance at happiness.”

And with that, Goldia glew a bright pink and the woman disappeared as Goldia transformed into a very lost scepter-wielding Platinum.

 

Fritz shot up out of his seat and rushed to Goldia’s side as she awoke, weeping. He took her hand and whispered to her, relieved to see her eyes were once again their usual cherry red.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here with you. You’re awake again, and I’m here with you.”

She continued quietly sobbing, squeezing his hand with both of her own. She had a lot to fix.

 

_ About two weeks ago… _

 

The woman collapsed to the ground immediately after exiting the room. She was covered in injuries and wounds, ritually inflicted. The other two of her rushed to her side, calling out her name.

“Are you alright?” the real one asked.

“What did he do to you? What did he say? I thought he was a doctor!” the other one said, panicked.

But the poor lady said nothing. She could barely move. Behind her, the door opened again. A cruel man gestured to the real one. “Come in. I need to speak with you. More importantly, I need to speak with the demons within you.”

The horrors went on and on for what seemed like ages. But a week later, the torments were interrupted by a very angry voice from outside. A familiar voice.

“What are you doing to my sister?!”

 

Chapter 6

 

The rose labyrinth was a burning wasteland. The dollhouse was being consumed in flames, eating away little by little at The Lilliputian Princess’s realm and the memories of her that remained.

Goldia rushed through the burning trees and scorched grasses and walls, clutching her pocket mirror in her left hand and waving away ash with her right. She had to find Fleta before it was too late, and time was running out. Without her regalia, the ground would soon start to crack and disappear.

Her uncle had been relieved when she awoke, but he had been deeply shaken when she had, without saying anything, quietly drifted back to sleep.

“Goldia! Come back! Don’t go anywhere near her, do you hear me?”

Goldia heard his voice in her ears but not in the smoky air around her as she nearly reached the garden. She had nearly cleared the forest when Fritz shook her sleeping form, trying to rouse her. The ground around her shook and started to wobble. Trees, already weakened by the flames, collapsed in piles of embers and charcoal, and she struggled to avoid losing her balance as well. But she clung tightly to sleep. Fleta needed her in here. She trudged on, reaching and ascending the stairs onto the lawn of their beloved garden.

Fritz was panicked. He gently lifted her eyelid, and was deeply relieved that it was red. But it looked… tainted somehow, as if the yellow had left a mark on her eye color, making it appear slightly more orange than red. He decided to leave her alone for now, watching to see if she would be possessed again.

_ This time, I swear, I will run out and I will find that witch. And when I do, I will teach her a lesson she will never forget.  _ The thought was hollow. He dared not risk leaving her alone any more than he did earlier, and he was scared that he wouldn’t be strong enough to defeat the witch even if he did find her. What would she do to him, if he got too close?

Goldia ascended past the shattered statues of her selves, arriving at the top. And there, lying on her side in the middle of the lawn, her dress scorched and her fair skin damaged, was the Lilliputian Princess. Goldia rushed to her side and knelt, turning her over. She pocketed her mirror. Fleta’s eyes were closed; one of her eyelids was burnt. Her chest was barely rising and falling. Her right arm was shattered, and the glass cracks were spreading into her shoulder, picking up speed. This time, shattering really did mean death. Forgotten forever.

“Fleta! Where’s your bell?!” Goldia cried.

“Goldia… What did you do to me…?” Fleta rasped.

Tears appeared in Goldia’s eyes. What had she done indeed. “I’m so sorry, Fleta, I was so careless. I need you to help me find your bell before it’s too late!” Fleta’s shoulder was gone, and it was progressing downward across her side and into her right leg. The fires in her home were moving down to the lower levels, leaving charred, forgotten things behind.

“But… You took it from me…” Fleta weakly reached for Goldia’s pocket with her remaining hand, tugging on the skirt. The muffled sound of a broken bell sounded.

“Oh!”  Goldia realized the witch must have taken it as Platinum and pocketed it.  She reached into her dress and pulled out Rozen Glockchen, but saw that it was, in fact, broken. The waist was cracked in several places, and the ribbon had had the pink cooked out of it. The gold had been tarnished by flame. Goldia’s eyes welled up even more as Fleta’s voice sounded in her head.

_ “It’s my treasure… please take good care of it…” _

“Fleta! Stay with me!” Goldia opened Fleta’s remaining hand and firmly closed it around the precious bell, then wrapped her own hands around it, squeezing tightly. But the glass did not slow as it finished off her legs and progressed to her chest.

“I… don’t remember what my kingdom looks like...” Fleta mumbled, her good eyelid fluttering. Her face was becoming unrecognizable as it fractured into smaller and smaller pieces.

Goldia was growing desperate. “It’s green and pink and perfect! Remember? The labyrinth, the garden…” Fleta was almost out of time, and that didn’t seem to be helping. Her regalia was too damaged to help, but maybe the most powerful one, the one that had done this damage, could undo it.

Quickly, Goldia took Rozen Glockchen and laid the Pocket Mirror in its place, closing Fleta’s cracking hand around it. Fleta heard the lost girl’s voice in her head as her weak fingers closed around the precious mirror.

_ “Oh! In that case… I want you to have this after all.” _

Fleta’s hand solidified. It was slightly larger than it had been before. Older, around Goldia’s actual age of sixteen. Goldia watched as the effect spread across her entire body. The wounds and burns disappeared gradually but surely, but Fleta’s entire form was restored and transformed. She was no little girl anymore. She was a teenager.

It started to rain, cleaning the smoky air and putting out the flames. Fleta’s eyes were closed, and the pain exhaustion had left her expression. Her wet fingers loosened their grip on the pocket mirror but Goldia kept it in place. Then she noticed what had happened to Rozen Glockchen.

The bell had regained its former colors and brilliance, even in the rain, but was a tad larger. It had more pronunciation, more curve. Looking at Fleta again, the same was true of her now. Fleta was very recognizable but she was now Goldia’s age.

_ Is she still Fleta? Did I change her somehow? _

“You’re so silly. Of course you did.” Goldia gasped as Fleta opened her eyes and sat up. They were still the same green, magical eyes they had always been. Her voice had the same playful tone but was now a touch deeper. Goldia quickly hugged Fleta, tears of relief streaming down her already wet face.

Fritz sighed in deep relief as Goldia relaxed in her sleep, a smile overcoming her face. He remained sitting on the chair, filled with tentative hope as he continued to watch over her. He knew he needed sleep, but decided to wait a little longer. Goldia might still need him.

 

Enjel’s wounded body floated silently downward through space. Far above, if she weren’t unconscious, she could’ve seen the bottoms of multiple wildly winding rugs that had been scorched and torn all over the place, floating in space like a fabric wreckage. The candlelight was dim at the depth she had fallen to, and she would soon be enveloped in utter darkness as she fell further and further in the blackness.

Then, a hand opened up below her frail falling form, catching her in her descent and closing slowly around her. She was long gone by the time Goldia had searched her realm for her.

 

Goldia felt an emptiness, combing the torn rugs and strewn candles and curtains that made up Enjel’s realm. The stars had never looked dimmer. The color of everything was turning a deadened grey. Goldia felt the same, the longer she was here. And the longer she was here, the more she realized something.

_ This is what Enjel had been for.  _ She thought, and it echoed throughout her mind.

_ What?  _ Came Fleta’s weary voice in her head.

_ What do you mean?   _ Asked Harpae. Although Lisette said nothing, Goldia could hear the question mark coming from her direction.

Goldia sighed as she fruitlessly overturned another curtain in her search.  _ I feel so… empty. So pointless. She was made out of my will to live, and now that she’s gone, I’ve lost that much of myself. _

Silence for several moments. Then, they all spoke at the same time.

**_You’re my will to live, Goldia._ **

Goldia stopped in her tracks.  _ But… wasn’t she made of mine? _

_ She was. But she wasn’t  _ all  _ of it.  _ Lisette stated.  _ As time went on, and as you progressed in your journey, met us, remembered us, remembered yourself, and saved us from ourselves, we became your will to live. _

Everyone was suitably impressed by Lisette’s observation.

_ I should know,  _ she thought in response.  _ You became mine, and it seems to me that it works both ways. _

_ She’s right.  _ Fleta agreed.  _ Enjel just couldn’t keep up with us! _

_ Fleta,  _ Harpae lightly reproved.  _ That’s not very fair to expect of her. After all, she did spend her existence trapped in her realm. We certainly never let her into any of ours. _

Goldia exited the collapsing world, continuing to talk to them as her spirits lifted considerably.

_ Well, I still think it’s sad that she’s gone. I wish I could have known before now. I could have… _

_ Goldia, move on from her.  _ They all said at the same time.  __

Goldia opened her pocket mirror and looked inside. She saw herself looking back with acceptance she didn’t share.

_ Trust yourself.  _ Her reflection said in three voices.  _ We’re still here. You’re still here. There is no need to worry about a part of you that is gone. _

Goldia closed the mirror and stood, thinking.

 

Fritz waited a while. He felt so rude checking her eye again, but he had to know.

To his relief, it was once again its regular hue. Striking yet endearing, as he had said himself.

There was a knock at the door. Fritz sat up straight as a rod in his chair, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. He stood and walked to the front door, alert and ready. Neither of his windows afforded him a good view of the porch’s occupant. He closed his hand around the knob, opened it, and turned it.

“Fritz! What the bloody hell are you doing?” said his friend Abalard, in his nightgown and shoes and looking very irritated and tired. He had hazel eyes, short brown hair, and was well-built but short.

Fritz visibly sagged in relief. “Oh thank heavens, Abalard. I’m glad to see you! I’m sorry; my niece is having a… troublesome night.”

“Sure as death sounds like it!” Abalard snorted. “Where you been? We’ve missed you at the inn these last couple nights. You missed some good- wait, did you say niece?”

Fritz nodded. “Yes, niece. I have so much to tell you good friend, why don’t you come inside?”

“Gladly. It’s late but you’re keeping me up anyway, so let’s hear why!”

The two men sat across from each other. Fritz lit the fire, and he sat down.

“So, let me start by apologizing for disappearing for a few days.” Fritz said quietly.

“A wise place to start, my good friend!” Abalard chuckled and gave Fritz a friendly punch in the shoulder. Fritz put his finger to his lips.

“Sshh! My niece is sleeping!” he whispered sharply, gesturing to the bedroom.

Abalard slapped his forehead. “My mistake, my mistake, I’m sorry.” he whispered. “So tell me about your niece! Your sister go off with that Rome Parrot guy and get busy?”

“Yes, Abalard…” Fritz sighed. “Had herself a twin boy and girl. Her daughter’s the one I’m taking care of now.”

“I see, but why have you gotta take care of her? Can’t that rich couple take care of her themselves and have plenty left over?” Abalard raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Abalard, y’see, my sister and her husband are dead. My niece’s the last surviving member of her family.”

“Oh… sorry about that.”

“So her other uncle, my brother-in-law, who could definitely take care her himself and have plenty left over, sent her to me. Not that I’m complaining of course, she’s a very nice girl and she’s told me quite a lot…” Fritz added, ashamed that he’d even said that first part.

“Ah, don’t worry friend. It’s pretty selfish of your good-for-nothing brother-in-law to send her all the way here, y’know?” Abalard said, patting Fritz’s shoulder.

But Fritz shrugged him off. “I know, it’s just… I feel so lucky, y’know? She’s such a wonderful girl to be around, I’m actually glad that upper-crust loser didn’t take her in. She’s too good for him to ‘care’ for.”

Abalard laughed again.

“Shhh!” Fritz lightly punched Abalard and glanced at Goldia’s bedroom door again.

“Ah, sorry again my friend.” Abalard stood. “ Well, be sure to take her with you to the inn tomorrow after your work’s all done, and we’ll see how she fares against my Charlotte in Chess!”

Fritz flashed a grin. “Oh, you’ll see all right.”

Fritz saw his friend out the door.

“Now get some sleep, and let me get mine!” Abalard called as he stepped off the porch towards his own house.

“Yes, yes. See you tomorrow, Abalard. Auf Wiedersehen.”

With the door closed, and his friend gone, the old atmosphere of the house that that witch had left behind once again hung loosely in the air. Fritz checked on his niece one last time, saw that she was sleeping peacefully, and passed out on the couch.

 

_ About a week ago... _

 

“But sir!” the young man pleaded. “You can’t keep doing that to her!”

“And why can’t I?” the doctor responded. “You think she’ll get better on her own? She needs my help.”

“You’re no help!” he shouted. “You’re only hurti-”

“Stop yelling.” the doctor cut him off irritably.  “You’ll wake the dead.”

The young man turned on his heels and headed for the door out of the small office. “I’m a lawyer! I’ll get you fired for this!”

“You’ll accomplish nothing for your sister.” the middle-aged professional replied evenly.

How wrong he turned out to be. Unfortunately, after a little more digging, being wrong gave him a wonderful opportunity.

 

Chapter 7

 

Fritz had slept in, Goldia found as she awoke the next morning and spotted him snoring on the couch. It was truly a miracle that she hadn’t been woken up by it yet, she thought with a giggle as she saw him.

It was also incredible how she felt so strangely happy right now, after what had happened last night. She had carelessly, and in a moment of shame and fear, given that witch immense power over her, which the woman promptly abused, attempting to shatter everyone except those she deemed “similar enough” to Goldia’s main personality. Platinum’s actions nearly severely reduced Goldia to a fraction of who she used to be.

Thankfully, Lisette had been a true hero. The thought that Goldia had nearly gotten her shattered for good shook her.

But it wasn’t as if the witch hadn’t accomplished anything. Far from it. She had murdered Enjel and had come far too close to doing the same to Fleta. Goldia didn’t know what made her sadder; the fact that Enjel was gone, or how she didn’t feel an aching loss as bad as she had expected. Last night, as she stood there thinking, she had realized that she had actually grown very distant from Enjel since she had talked her off the ledge at that climactic moment, and it confused her. How could she feel so little for Enjel at this point? It didn’t make sense to her. But she supposed there was no need to force sadness that she didn’t feel. Perhaps that witch had done damage so deep in her mind that she didn’t even care as much about Enjel.

The thought of losing her ability to care for Enjel made her think of what would have happened if she hadn’t been there in time for Fleta. Would the same have happened to her? The thought terrified her.

Goldia sat down at the table, deciding not to wake her uncle for now. He needed the rest after last night. She closed her eyes and tried to make sense of what had happened after she had saved Fleta.

Fleta had aged. She had grown to Goldia’s age group, with a deeper voice and more pronounced form. Her bell had also done so. But the most interesting change was her personality. They had talked and thought together a lot with everyone after Goldia had led her out of her scorched realm. She had been upset about the damage to her home, but she hadn’t exploded like Goldia expected.

She was like the old Fleta, but... older. She was a lot more reserved, yet still quite bouncy. She was still snarky, but she was far better at realizing when she was going too far. She saw the fun in everything and was quite mischievous and playful still. Overall, she was an improvement. It took Goldia a while to adjust to it though, but by the time she woke up, she felt very acquainted with the new Lilliputian Princess. Which was good, because although Goldia didn’t know it yet, she would be very useful.

At that thought, “useful”, Goldia realized something she had only subconsciously accepted until last night after what Uncle Fritz had said, where she had lost track of it for just long enough to make her massive mistake.

Multiple personalities was a disorder. Having imaginary people inside your head who, at the end of day, had no say in how you acted and were really only there to express the nuances of who you were, was not a disorder. And that realization was extremely empowering. It meant she could entertain these other Goldias in her mind, learn from them, and have fun with them without feeling like she was endangering herself or slipping somehow. This realization was a very welcome one to a very lucky girl like Goldia, who had the great fortune of having people like The Sleeping Maiden of Horrors, The Maiden of Pristine Eyes, and The Lilliputian Princess in her mind. This realization was also a very welcome one to a very unlucky girl like Goldia, who had the great misfortune of having people like that witch and her master also vying for power over her mind.

Her rising spirits were checked when she remembered that her uncle didn’t seem to understand that at all. But she had hope that, in time, he would come around. He was a good listener, not prone to shutting out or condemning anything he didn’t understand quickly.  And he was a good man.

Goldia waited patiently at the table for a few minutes. But then she spotted the chess set resting on top of the pantry.

_ I guess I’ll play around with it until he’s awake. Maybe grab a snack too!  _ She smiled at the thought.

She stood and crossed to the pantry, bringing a chair along with her, lifting it so as not to scrape it against the floor and make noise. She set down the seat and, using it for height, easily carried the simple wooden chess board down and back to the table, setting it down lightly. She walked back to the pantry and got out some bread. At least, she thought it was bread. It was awfully dark for bread, she thought. And hard. But food was food, and she brought it over to the table. But trouble began when she tried to tear off a corner. It refused to budge. It was like a rock that got crumbs everywhere!

“Ach du lieber himmel!” she muttered angrily. She gave up and left it on the table beside her as she set the pieces up for a game against herself. She had gotten good at these, growing up for the most part without a playmate in the real world. After all the pieces were set up, she began to play as her uncle slept on.

 

Uncle Fritz was not having a pleasant dream. He kept seeing Goldia rapidly changing personalities, mostly between that Fleta girl she described and herself. Sometimes she would run away and never come back. Other times she acted like a little child, always needy and selfish. But eventually, she acted normally. But when she did, yellow eyes started to hang in the air, following her around. Near the end of his sleep, she turned a corner ahead of him, the eyes following her. When he turned the corner after her, she turned around, staring at him with the golden eyes, who had replaced her real ones, which he saw rolling away on the floor. She screamed and cried out as she tried to tear out the intruders. He didn’t know what to do but run after her eyes which were rolling away. But as he caught up to them, they sank into a puddle which showed her face staring up at him, her eyes intact. She smiled and rose out of the water in front of him, reaching out to him, trying to hug him.

“See? I’m okay, uncle!” she said with a giggle.  

Like a shot had been fired, Fritz sat up on the couch, breathing rapidly. He was drenched in sweat. He looked around and saw Goldia staring at him from the table over her chess game, her eyes wide.

“...Uncle?” she asked, startled.

Fritz sighed in relief. “Are you alright? Last night was… intense for you.”

“Yeah, but I handled it.” she stood and did a little twirl to cheer him up. “See? I’m okay, uncle!” she said with a giggle.

Fritz sighed and rubbed his eyes with his hand, supporting himself with his other. “But… are you really?”

Goldia frowned. “What did you dream about, uncle? It was me, wasn’t it?” Of course it was her. What else could it be after last night?

“Yes, you were very… disturbed. You kept changing, acting like that brat Fleta every other minute. You were put through such pain by those golden eyes… but I could do little more than watch, and everything I tried to do to help you beyond that just got in the way or accomplished nothing.”

Goldia frowned again. She came over and took a seat across from her uncle. “Well, could I tell you what  _ I  _ dreamed about?”

Fritz looked at her, knowing it couldn’t hurt to know but not particularly wanting to know either. He sighed. “Very well. I’ll make something to eat while you’re at it.” He stood and stretched, then he spotted the bread.

“What were you  _ doing  _ with the bread?” He raised an eyebrow. “There’s crumbs everywhere.”

“Sorry about that…” she apologized. “But why is it so hard? It’s like a crummy rock!”

“Because it’s… bread…?” Fritz was slightly confused, but then he remembered as he put the bread away. “Ah, I see. All the bread you’ve seen is this nice and soft white snack, huh?”

“Oh.” Goldia immediately understood. “That’s not something you have when you’re not very rich?”

“No, we don’t have white bread. But you’ll come to enjoy my bread, in time.” He reopened the pantry. “Do you mind if I cut some for you?”

“Not at all! I would like to try it.” She said happily.

“Excellent.” Fritz got out his bread knife and cutting board and went to work.

“Well, when I went to sleep last night, I met a woman with golden eyes, purple hair and dress, and a straw hat.”

Fritz paused, looking up from his work. “...go on.”

“You see,” Goldia continued, “she appeared to me in my mind and offered to help me reduce my personalities. And I…”

“You…?”

“I took it.” Goldia looked at the floor. “I’m so sorry. I was feeling shaken by what you said about having all these people in my head, I hadn’t really thought of it as a problem before but when you mentioned it I-“

Fritz was looking at her but his mind was wandering as she continued to speak.

_ So I did contribute to it. If I hadn’t been so critical, hadn’t been so repulsed by her condition, then perhaps she could’ve said no… _

“...but then the last one fought her off and freed me. That’s when I woke up for a brief moment, before going back to-

“One of them ‘fought her off’ for you?” Fritz asked suddenly.

“Yes. Her name is Lisette, and she was truly brave.” Goldia said proudly.

Fritz put his chin on his fist and leaned on the table. If she hadn’t been divided, she would’ve been under the witch’s complete and utter control. But it seemed that having a few extra people in her head had actually saved his niece last night. He didn’t quite know how to reconcile it with his distrust of it.

_ But it’s a disorder. You can’t call madness a good thing, or justify it somehow! _

Goldia watched him,  and tried to guess what he was thinking. “Oh, the other ones are called Harpae and… Enjel…” she wavered a bit at the last name.

Fritz looked up. “Oh, that’s not quite what I… nevermind.” he waved his hand dismissively. He was almost done cutting two slices of bread, and he finished it as Goldia tried to think of anything he could be thinking of other than the obvious  _ I don’t know how I feel about multiple personalities.  _ But as she came over to the table and put the chess board away in silence, she figured she had to say it.

“Uncle,” she said, sitting down at the table. “I thought a lot about it while I was waiting for you to wake up this morning, and I have something to tell you.”

He was spreading butter on the bread, and he paused, making eye contact as he waited for her to continue.

“Well, you see uncle… I… I think multiple personalities is a disorder, to be sure.”

He nodded.

“And I think I have multiple personalities.”

He nodded once more.

“But I wouldn’t say I had a disorder.”

He thought for a few moments. Then, slowly, he nodded. She sighed in relief.

“So, you’re not opposed to me having imaginary people in my head?” she said quietly.

Fritz thought for a moment. He realized how much his opinion mattered to her, sitting in front of him and waiting for his answer with wide eyes and a quiet voice. It made him seriously stop and ask himself what he thought about it.

_ Well, I haven’t seen it actually change her behaviour yet, have I? _

_ She’s never called herself someone else or acted like she was anyone other than Goldia… _

_ She hasn’t had any outbursts or looked close to having one… _

“No.” he said simply. “You don’t seem to have a mental disorder.”

Goldia looked relieved. “That makes me glad. I will keep  it to myself though.”

“That’s fine. Here, breakfast is ready.”

 

The Cherubina of Shed Wings opened her eyes.

She sat up, looking around herself. She was in a small forest, but the farther in every direction she looked, the less realistic the foliage and trees looked. They got blurrier and blurrier.

She started to stand but arched her body in pain as it shot through the large, bandaged wound in her back, where her scythe had been slashed across her. Her remaining wing barely remained attached to her. She gasped in agony and lay down again, staring at the canopy above her, thinking.

_ Where am I? _

_ Where is Platinum? _

_ Where is Goldia? _

_ Who bandaged my back? Where’s my scythe? _

“So many questions.” came a quiet voice to her left.

Enjel turned her head in its direction, and saw the woman Goldia would have recognized as the witch, but that she did not.

“Who are you?” she asked quickly, slowly sitting up again, with a hand on her back.

“I am a friend.”

“How so?”

“I saved you from your old master, that girl with the red eyes who came to your realm, took your regalia, savaged you and threw you into the depths from which I caught you.” the woman said. She was very good at leaving emotion out of her voice, yet having the listener attentive to it as if she hadn’t.

Enjel remembered the moment. Goldia hadn’t done that, that had been Platinum. She decided to wait to ask that question. “You caught me? Why?”

The woman stepped closer. “Because with you, a plan of mine will become possible once more. With you, you can join me in executing and benefitting from it.”

“What plan?” Enjel’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you remember the boy who created you?” the woman stepped closer.

Enjel thought for a few moments, then slowly said: “Yes…”

“Do you think he’s a good master?” the woman was now standing over Enjel, who was still sitting up painfully. She extended her hand to help Enjel up. Enjel pulled her own hands back.

“No.” she said firmly. “He’s a manipulative monster.”

“Then we are in agreement.”

Enjel tentatively raised her hand, then took the woman’s  and rose to her feet, still bent over slightly.

“I’m sorry about your back.” the woman said quietly. “I’m sure you’re wondering where you are. Correct?”

“Yes.” Enjel said immediately, glancing around again. “What is this place?”

“This is my mind. One of the oldest and most secret places I have in it.”

Enjel looked at the woman, then around again. “I see…” then she touched her back and said: “You said Goldia did this to me. You also called Goldia my master. But those both aren’t true.”

“Are they?” the woman said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes. Goldia is not my master, she’s my…” Enjel paused. “...friend. And I saw Platinum do it to me, even if she does look similar to Goldia.”

The woman’s eyebrows remained raised.

“...what? You’re telling me that Goldia is just using me?”

“No. I’m telling you that Goldia isn’t using you at all. And that’s something you knew before I told you, isn’t it?”

Enjel was stunned. The woman hadn’t lied, as far she knew. Enjel felt that if she hadn’t been there in Goldia’s mind for the last few days, her behaviour wouldn’t be any different. It was a rotten feeling. And the woman had perfectly brought it to a head in her mind.

“But what about Platinum? Platinum’s not… Goldia…” Enjel trailed off.

“How do you know?” the woman asked.

“Because… because… Goldia would never…” Enjel had flashbacks entering her mind. Convenient ones.

_ “And neither do any of you.” Lisette said, looking around at everyone except Enjel, who noticed with a flash of irritation. _

_ Goldia never came searching for you, but she came after everyone else. _

_ You were “platinum”’s first target. _

_ No one in her mind will ever look at you the way they look at each other. _

_ You had no impact on Goldia after she “accepted” you. _

Enjel slowly came to the realization that she had never been Goldia’s friend. But then, who had?

Enjel had a sinking feeling in her stomach as the answer entered her head.  _ No one. _

And then a darker thought.  _ I should have taken it from her when I had the chance. Her stupid mirror that she can’t live without. _

“I… I see…” she said slowly.

“Are you interested in hearing my plan?” The woman asked quietly.

“Yes.” Enjel said immediately. “What is it?”

“A Single Chance at Happiness.”

 

Chapter 8

 

“Goldia, come inside!” Uncle Fritz called from the fence gate. “Let’s get ready to go to the inn!”

Goldia finished off the last of the water, laid down the watering can, and headed inside after him. He went to the bedroom to change out of his work clothes, and she took a seat at the table to wait for her turn.

“Why are we going to the inn?” she called from her seat in the kitchen. “Do you usually go there?”

“Yes.” Fritz responded from behind the door. “I usually go there every night after work to spend time with my close friends and their children. Chess is one of our favorite things to do, so I figured you could participate and get to know your new neighbors a bit better.”

Goldia brightened. “I see! Sounds fun!”

She waited a few more moments, and then Fritz came out of the room dressed in clean clothes. She didn’t need to change, she hadn’t changed into a field work outfit in the first place. Fritz didn’t have one her size and besides she had just been watering the crops and plants and throwing food to his chickens. So the two strode out of the house and started down the late afternoon street, her uncle in the lead.

“So, will there be any girls there?” she asked. She didn’t particularly like playing against people older than her, with the exception of her uncle. And she definitely preferred playing with girls over boys. She had always gotten along better with them anyways.

“Yes.” he responded, turning his head to look at her as they walked. “ Abalard, perhaps my closest friend, has a daughter named Charlotte. She’s very bright and very skilled at chess, but she can be a bit of a hassle sometimes. From what you’ve told me about Fleta, they have something in common in that respect.” he chuckled, facing forward again.

Goldia decided it was time to stick up for Fleta again. “Y’know, you’re really not being fair to Fleta.”

Fritz turned again, waiting for her to continue.

“You see, she’s never been a bad person.”

“She’s never been a person.” Fritz chuckled.

Goldia blushed. “I know, but that’s besides the point. Especially after last night, she almost died.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that!”

“Yes I did! Were you not paying attention?”

Now it was Fritz’s turn to slightly blush, if not visibly. “No, I suppose not. My apologies.”

“How much did you miss?” Goldia was slightly frustrated. 

“I got lost in thought while you were speaking, something you said got me pondering. I’m sorry.”

“I see…” Goldia sighed. “Anyways, last night she changed quite a bit. Grew up a lot.”

“Well that’s good, at any rate.” Fritz acknowledged.

Goldia smiled, and they continued walking.

_ We’ve been walking for a few minutes, shouldn’t we have reached the inn by now?  _ Fritz thought.

_ Oh, you idiot. You weren’t paying attention and now you’ve passed it. _

“Oops, we missed the inn. I mustn’t have been paying attention.” Fritz gestured to Goldia and turned around. “Come along.”

“Okay!” she followed him back a few houses and around the turn they’d missed. There was the inn. There was a sign with a mug drawn on it hanging  from a post on the side of the street in front of the moderate-sized building.

“That’s the building.” Fritz said, pointing to it. “Follow me inside, let’s see if we can find Abalard and his daughter.”

Goldia nodded, following him until he stopped at the door, and turned to speak to her before going in.

“Now, Goldia, just so you’re aware, we are not staying very long. After it gets dark, me and my friends typically drink a lot of alcohol and enjoy ourselves. That’s no place for a young woman like you, and I’ll leave before then with you. Understood?”

“Yes, uncle. Let’s hurry, I wanna play chess before it’s time to go!”

Fritz smiled and opened the door for her, going in after her.

The keiferburg inn was not particularly spacious, but it was definitely bigger than the Leidl house. The lighting from the candles and the fireplace was decent, and the ceiling wasn’t too low for anyone. The place wasn’t particularly crowded, as Keiferburg was not a particularly populous place, and thus the volume was not such that they needed to shout to be heard. But as Fritz walked in, he got several welcomes and greetings from the other men in the commons. There were almost no women, and they all sat together in the same corner of the room. There were mostly teenage boys with their fathers.

“There’s Abalard right there, come with me.” Fritz tapped Goldia on the shoulder as she was taking in the room, startling her a little. She followed him to a table near the fireplace, where a man and his daughter were seated.

“Fritz! How are you today? Better than last night, I hope?” he gestured for them to sit down across from him and Charlotte, who was watching them both with a nervous expression.

Charlotte was a short, thin girl. Her eyes were hazel, like Abalard’s, but unlike her father, she was a touch paler and had brown hair. She looked to be a few years younger than Goldia and very shy.

“Who’s she, dad?” she said, pointing rudely at Goldia as she and her uncle sat down. Not so shy after all, Goldia thought, irritated. “Mr. Leidl doesn’t have a wife.”

“Charlotte!” Abalard scolded. “That’s extremely disrespectful for you to point at and be rude to our friend and his niece. Apologize, then try again.”

Charlotte hung her head. “Sorry…” she said quietly.

Abalard patted her on the back as Goldia and Fritz smiled. “It’s okay, dear. Now, try again. Politely this time.”

Charlotte said nothing for a few moments, then, her head still bowed, mumbled something incomprehensible.

“What?” everyone said.

“I haven’t seen you before, who are you?” she said clearly this time, raising her head to face Goldia. Abalard nodded.

“Oh!” Goldia said. “My name is Goldia. He’s my uncle.” she said, glancing at him. “I’m staying with him for a while, so he decided to let me visit you for a little bit! I wanna play chess!”

Fritz facepalmed at the mention of chess. “Blast! I forgot our chess set.”

“That’s fine, not to worry!” Abalard said, reaching under the table. “I have a surprise for you, Fritz!” He set his own chess set in between everyone.

Fritz’s eyes widened. “What?! I didn’t know you had a chess set yet! You told me you wouldn’t be able to buy it for at least another month!”

Abalard grinned. “That’s what I said before I realized I could sell some of Charlotte’s clothes she’s outgrown. Now, Charlotte, do you want to play with Goldia?”

Charlotte looked at her dad in a way that suggested she would much rather play with him or Fritz than with someone new, but she gracelessly sighed and started setting up the black pieces out of their box. Goldia took the cue and started to set up the white pieces on her side. They both quickly populated the board, and began to play as their respective guardians watched.

It is rare for one to be able to tell anything about one’s opponent just from the first few moves of a chess game, but in Charlotte’s case, she was not discreet. She kept moving pawns and eventually face pieces all from the kingside of the board, advancing aggressively. Goldia at first tried to stop her, but then decided to try moving other pieces to the queenside of the board and force the girl to split up. However, Charlotte, her face passive, ignored this and left the wall of pawns in front of her pieces on the queenside as she continued pressuring Goldia on the kingside. Fritz and Abalard watched, interested to see how she would react to this strategy. Goldia was frowning in concentration, while Charlotte’s face was a mask.

Seeing that Charlotte was not giving up on the kingside, she decided to focus on pushing her back there. But as soon as she started taking pieces, Charlotte promptly moved some pieces over to the queenside and started capturing Goldia’s outstretched pieces, trapping them between her attackers and the pawns. Goldia scratched her head, pursing her lips. She was losing lots of valuable pieces fast. She decided to attack Charlotte’s pawns who had been left on the kingside, as Charlotte’s pieces on the queenside had already pretty much won there. She easily squashed Charlotte’s pawns on the kingside, but Charlotte started to mercilessly push past her opening on the queenside and began to threaten the queen. Goldia used her knight to defend, but he was taken and the piece he had taken out replaced, placing the queen in the same danger.

Goldia sighed. She was definitely losing. She had lost more pieces, most of them face pieces, and Charlotte had really only lost little more than a few pawns. Charlotte’s pieces were threatening her queen, who was forced to move in a counterposition. Charlotte moved out of danger, temporarily repelled as Goldia’s queen chased her off. But then she brought in her own queen, and Goldia’s queen was trapped and killed because of another overextension on her part. It was very methodical.

“Surrender?” Charlotte asked plainly.

“I… uh…” Goldia stuttered. It did not look like she was going to win; she had nearly run out of anything that wasn’t a pawn and Charlotte still had plenty to spare. Her pawns already had multiple breaches in their line as well.  Overall, it seemed pointless to continue.

“You win.” Goldia said, tipping over her king with her finger.

Charlotte smiled and said nothing.

“Well played, Charlotte.” Abalard patted his daughter on her slim shoulder. “You did well.”

“That was a decent match.” Fritz said. Then he whispered in Goldia’s ear,  “You’ll do better; that strategy doesn’t last long.”

Goldia pursed her lips.

_ Apparently she was more excited to play with a new person than I guessed. Hmph. _

“Come on, Fritz! Let’s send the kids home and get some drinks.” Abalard stood and beckoned his friend.

“Not tonight, Abalard, I have to take care of my niece. I’m going home with her; I can walk your daughter some of the way as well if you’d like.”

“I’ll just go on my own…” Charlotte stood and started walking to the door. They watched her leave and shrugged.

“Anyways, come along Goldia.” Fritz stood and gestured for his niece to follow. “I’m sorry Abalard, but it’s not safe for me to leave her alone at home while I get myself drunk.”

“That’s alright old friend, go on home with your niece.” Abalard shook his hand. “I’ll drink enough for both of us tonight!” he laughed.

“I’m sure you will, Abalard, I’m sure you will.” Fritz saw Goldia out. “Auf wiedersehen.” he called as he left, followed by a few other patrons.

 

Charlotte was walking home alone. The darkness and silence after being in the inn were a sharp contrast, although it was a summer night. She’d done it a lot, her home wasn’t very far from the inn and her father Abalard liked to stay and drink. She liked to go home and spend time with her mother, so it all worked out.

She liked to quietly hum to herself while she walked, and she did so now. It was a tune she’d heard in a dream. A recent one. It was not a complex song, but it started low and gradually went higher and higher. It had been somewhat haunting when she’d first heard it, but it strangely brought her comfort when she was alone nowadays.

It had been a simple dream, but nonetheless intriguing to the young girl. She had been wandering alone through town for quite some time, when she realized she was no longer in the town but in the forest. She had walked and walked and walked, but couldn’t find her way home. Then, she started hearing the tune she was humming now. Following the melody, she entered a clearing, finding a lonely tree stump. It was leaking blood, and Charlotte noticed the axe laying a short distance from it. But when she touched the stump, where the music was coming from, she woke up.

Charlotte was almost home. But as she approached her porch, and lowered her voice, she realized someone else had been humming the same song, but their voice went on for a second too long after hers, and she noticed.

Charlotte turned her head and saw a woman with golden eyes and holding a basket standing a ways off the road behind her. The woman stepped closer so Charlotte could see the rest of her face better.

“You played very well, Charlotte.” She said.

Charlotte took a step back, toward the porch. “Wh-who are you?”

“I am a friend.”

“I don’t- I don’t know you…” Charlotte said.

“No, but I know you.” the woman took a step closer, and held out her hand in a gesture that went well with what she said next, “Stop. I need to speak with you.”

“But- but-” Charlotte stammered. This woman scared her. She’d never seen anyone with eyes so golden, so reserved yet startling. She put her hand on the doorknob.

“I watched you play chess with that new girl.” the woman said.

“Y-yes…”

“You’re very clever, to take her by surprise like that. But would you like an opponent you could always surprise? An opponent who would play well but always lose in the end?”

Charlotte’s hazel eyes widened. Those had been her exact thoughts going to sleep the night she’d had that dream. She let go of the doorknob.

“A-are you a fairy?”

“I grant wishes.”

“Could you grant me that wish?” Charlotte asked, her young eyes full of wonder.

“Yes.” The woman said immediately. “And while wishes are rarely free, this one is, for now. You’re a bright girl, and you deserve this prize.” Simply astounding, the way her tone was so full of meaning yet so devoid of emotion.

“Who’s my opponent?” she asked excitedly.

“Close your eyes.”

Charlotte closed her eyes, expecting the surprise to come when she opened them. But as it turned out, it came when she closed them.

She could still see the woman standing in front of her, holding out her hand, within which was a tiny golden pocket mirror. “Take this. Look into it. There, you will find your wish. And you will find yourself.”

Charlotte slowly reached out and took the golden mirror, and slowly opened it. A face much like her own, but with black hair and golden eyes looked back at her. The face smiled. She closed the mirror, and opened her eyes.

The little mirror was in her hands, but when she opened it with her eyes opened, she could see her own reflection normally.

“Do not worry, that mirror always shows your reflection whether your eyes are closed or not. Just forget the notion that a reflection has to look like you.” and with that, the woman turned and left, walking out of the village boundaries and out of sight.

 

Chapter 9

 

“You can open your eyes now!” Fleta whispered excitedly in Goldia’s ear. Goldia grinned and opened her eyes.

Fleta’s garden was exquisite. The rose labyrinth was double its previous size, and all the trees which had before been dark and dying were reconstituted and healthy, fruit starting to show on their many branches. There were delicate flower rows everywhere along with water canals crisscrossing through the trees around the lawn and walls, making a beautiful irrigation network you could cool your feet in. The grass was green, luscious and soft, and the two had taken their shoes off at Fleta’s request earlier so they could feel it. Her commands had for the most part turned into requests, and her pleading voice she often slipped into when asking for things had disappeared entirely. The two ran around together, laughing as a gentle breeze blew their hair and touched their skin. Harpae and Lisette stood on the porch, watching with peaceful smiles on their faces.

That night, Fleta had bubbled over about the chess match with Charlotte and how frustrated she was that Goldia had fallen for her “sloppy” tactics. But she had quickly moved on to wanting to show her what she had done to her dollhouse while Goldia worked. 

“It’s beautiful, Fleta! I love it!” Goldia laughed. She looked over at where her statue had been. And there it was, but it depicted her running around gleefully, just like she had been just now. “And I like the statue! Are the others where they used to be?”

“Yes! Let me show you all what I did with your statues!” she beckoned the three to follow her down the steps to the fountain where the other statues were. As they came down the steps, they first saw Fleta’s bust in the middle of the fountain, standing straight and looking up at the sky with her arms folded behind her back, her eyes full of stars.

Harpae tapped Fleta’s shoulder. “Which direction is mine?” she asked politely.

“Oh! Yours is-” she took Harpae’s hand and pointed it, “right there!”

Harpae nodded and walked over to her statue, touching its base. It depicted her bending forward slightly, holding a finger up to her lips as if quieting someone shorter than her. The detail was impressive and it was very true to the girl.

“Ah, so that’s what it looks like.” Harpae said after hearing what Fleta was thinking.

“Yes! Do you like it?” Fleta asked.

“It suits me well, and fits perfectly in your garden. Well done.”

Fleta beamed. Then she turned and saw Lisette and Goldia examining the Sleeping Maiden of Horrors statue. It showed Lisette smiling warmly as she twirled a pair of beautiful scissors between her fingers.

“I like it! What do you think, Lisette?” Goldia turned to her.

“I like it.” She said quietly.

“Yay!” Fleta said excitedly, clapping. “C’mon, I’ve gotta show you the new upstairs of the house!”

“Does it look at all like it used to?” Goldia asked as Fleta opened the front door, having put on their shoes once more.

“Nope! I couldn’t remember what it looked like at all, strangely enough.” Fleta guided them up and out of the first level. “But look what I thought up while you were working today!”

The trump room had been enlarged to house a card table, pool table, piano and several accompanying instruments beside a stage, and a chess and checkers table beside a large cabinet filled with numerous board and card games.

“Woah!” Goldia said. “This is much bigger than it was when I played memory with you!” Lisette nodded in agreement as Harpae smiled politely.

“Yep! Wait till you see the library!” Fleta tugged on Harpae. “And it has a section in braille full of books I’m sure you’ll enjoy, Harpae!”

Harpae brightened. “Let’s go there then. I’m excited to see it.”

“I took a look at your books to see which kinds you like, so don’t worry!”

Fleta excitedly took to the stairs as they followed her. And when they turned the corner into the library, it was indeed a sight to behold. It was on a scale comparable to Harpae’s own library, but it spiraled around rather than ascending in a rectangular fashion. Row upon row of bookshelves wound through the room as light poured in through the various windows above them.

“Um, where are the books for me?” Harpae asked politely after a few moments of everyone else staring wide-eyed at Fleta’s creation.

“Oh! I’m sorry, here.” Fleta took Harpae’s hand and guided her and everyone else to a quiet part of the library, where there was a table surrounded with soft, comfy chairs and a phonograph on it. “Here! Try… this one!” Fleta picked a book at random as she could not read any of the titles. She’d mostly just taken inspiration from Harpae’s thoughts for books, and then used her to translate them into braille without her noticing.

Harpae took the book and started to read it with her fingers. “Ah! This is The Chronicle of Sparrow Lane. Do you mind if I stop here and read it while you three go on?”

Everyone shook their head. “Don’t worry, Harpae.” Fleta said. “Enjoy the book, I’ve got to show you both the planetarium I thought of! While I couldn’t remember it at first, thinking of Egliette reminded me, and I thought big!”

As they followed her up the steps, she slowed and spoke quietly to them. “Speaking of Egliette, there’s one more thing I have to show you after the planetarium before tomorrow.”

Lisette and Goldia nodded once, and continued up the steps after her.

The planetarium was a grand room that granted a vast view of the heavens above in Fleta’s world. The stars formed into any shape you liked, and plenty of them whizzed by as the three gazed upwards, the stars beautifully reflected in each of their eyes.

“Do either of you have any wishes? Here come some shooting stars!” Fleta pointed.

After a few moments of searching, Lisette focused on a star, and Goldia unwittingly looked at the same one.

“Wait, what’s the point of having different wishes if we can hear each other think them?” Fleta said after a moment. “Let’s all think one together.”

_ I would also like to participate.  _ Came Harpae in their heads.

Together, they made a wish on the star Lisette had focused on. They opened their eyes and smiled at each other, then moved on.

The attic upstairs was gone, and Fleta had not replaced it. But she had replaced the play room.

Fleta took on an unusual somber attitude as she turned the doorknob.

“This is it.” she said. Lisette and Goldia shared a glance, and followed Fleta into the room.

The room was small and lit only by the sunlight peeking in through the window. In the middle of the wood floor, in a small raised glass case, was the Puppe Regina’s resting form. Her body and dress were grey and still. Her crown was resting on a small stand beside the case, along with Messer and Gabel.

Goldia and Lisette slowly walked forward and knelt down to read the inscription on the glass case’s stand.

_ In Memory of Elise Leidl Die Heilige, _

_ A Mother Who Gave Everything to Right Her Wrongs _

Fleta was very quiet as they read it and looked at the late queen. Lisette turned and spoke.

“Where did you find her?”

“I found the doll in my bed this morning, tucked in next to me.” Fleta sniffed. Goldia turned as well. “She’s beautiful, even if she’s… grey…”

“She’ll always be beautiful.” Goldia and Lisette said unanimously, giving Fleta a big hug as a tear ran down her cheek.

 

Soundly asleep, Charlotte sat down at the chess table. She opened the drawer on her side and started eagerly setting up chess pieces. After she finished, she took the pocket mirror out and opened it. Within it, there was no reflection. Her hazel eyes widened.

_ Where’d she go?! Did that lady trick me? _

“I’m right here. Don’t worry, silly.” Charlotte looked up in a jolt, almost dropping the little mirror. A girl who very much resembled her but with golden eyes and black hair was smirking from her seat in the chair across from Charlotte. Charlotte tried to recover by pouting slightly.

“You scared me!”

Enjel sighed. “Sorry I scared you.” she said, very much like an adult who had just been trying to tease to an offended child. Something about Enjel that Charlotte couldn’t notice was that she now had all ten of her fingers. The witch had kindly regenerated it, as well as her back and wings. Her wings were hidden from view, however, as was her scythe. Charlotte did not need to see those, and it’s not difficult to hide what person doesn’t want to see from their view, especially in their own mind.

Charlotte waved her hand dismissively. “Well, let’s play! I’ve always wanted an opponent like you!” Then, as an afterthought, “What’s your name?”

“Call me Enjel.” The Cherubina of Shed Wings said simply.

“Alright, Enjel. Are you ready to play?” Charlotte clasped her hands together in excitement.

Enjel turned her chin up provocatively. “Of course. Are you?” she challenged.

Charlotte already liked this opponent. She was going down. “You’re on!” she said, moving her first pawn. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed that even though she had set up the black pieces on her side, as she typically preferred them, they were now on Enjel’s side and she was using the white ones.

Enjel responded poorly to everything, and Charlotte walloped her the first round.

“C’mon! Are you even trying?” Charlotte whined.

Enjel frowned. Her entire experience with chess amounted to one tutorial with Rozenmarine and what she had seen in the match Goldia and Charlotte had had earlier. She was starting to see patterns in how Charlotte played, however.

“Let’s try again.” Enjel said firmly. Charlotte rolled her eyes as she reset her pieces.

_ What’s wrong with her? That lady said that she would play well.  _ Enjel heard Charlotte think as they set up their pieces once more.

_ Oh, I’ll play well.  _ Enjel thought, inaudible to the little girl.  _ In time, you will learn that losing can be quite a lot more interesting. _

The witch leaned against the tree and laid her basket gently on the ground, preparing to sleep. She thought about the little angel she had just planted. 

_ What a charming little girl. She has so much potential. My master was truly foolish in planning to betray her. _

Enjel was an interesting case for the witch to persuade. The girl was sixteen, in appearance and will, but she was really an infant in many respects. She knew almost nothing about the world, minus residual things that must’ve trickled in from her experience around Goldia and her reflections. She was so malleable.

She was also lacking in emotional investment, so it had been easier to give her something to drive her, a goal. She had at first been invested in her goal to become a real girl by replacing Goldia, but Goldia had softened her and taken her in. Then, Goldia had found difficulty in finding a connection to the Cherubina of Shed Wings, in terms of being the same person. They were just too different, for multiple reasons.

Enjel had been created by the same master the witch served, out of Goldia’s will to live. Furthermore, she had been made and taught to replace others to become real; she didn’t have a body of her own and the magic to create life was far past the limits of even that boy. The power to take and consume it, however, was the very basis of his and his creations’ continued existence. This made Enjel a far more sinister and cunning person than any of Goldia, and to try to be the same person was near impossible. At no point in the witch’s memory, which was quite extensive and thorough in these matters, had such a union succeeded.

And then Goldia turned on Enjel. Or, more accurately, she allowed the witch to turn on Enjel for her. She had taken Enjel by surprise, nearly killed her, sliced and thrown her off into the dark with her own scythe, and tossed the weapon off after her.

Upon failing to the Sleeping Maiden of Horrors, as she called herself, the witch had had to relinquish Goldia’s Platinum form. But as she left, she took Enjel and her scythe with her.

Then, when Enjel had awoken, it had been a simple matter to turn her against her own master once more, by blaming her for Platinum’s actions and by making her an offer:

Two masters who had cast her aside, dead.

And, far more importantly, a real body. And not Goldia’s.

The witch rested her head against the tree as she sat with her back up to it, and closed her golden eyes with one final thought.

_ And for me, a single chance at happiness. _

 

Chapter 10

 

After her first few days of being in Keiferburg, Goldia was relieved that the days could start to blend together. Her daily routine became very similar to Fritz’s over the following few weeks: Breakfast, work, chores, and in the evening, a brief visit to the inn to spend time with Abalard and his daughter (whose last names were Schmidt, she found out), after which they would go home, talk a bit, make dinner if they hadn’t had it already, and go to bed. At night, she mostly visited Fleta’s new home, bringing along Lisette and/or Harpae if she could.

Her uncle hadn’t drunk since she’d shown up; there would be no one to take care of her if he did, unless he passed her off to someone else in the town, which was something he was expressly opposed to doing. She was very relieved that he was the kind of man who could put off such a habit she knew to be extremely destructive. She had lost her father that way.  Perhaps that was part of why he was willing to do it; he didn’t want to be reminiscent of Roman Per. He didn’t keep his dislike and distrust of his sister and her family secret, but he didn’t bring it up very often. While she was the reason his niece and therefore he were in this worrying position, it was rude to Goldia to criticize her mother, whose actions she hadn’t any accountability for.

Fritz was also gradually growing accustomed to her other personalities. He didn’t tease them or her for them, but she still rarely brought them up, not out of fear but out of respect. Imaginary people were a thing for children, and a disease for adults, but for her, they seemed to just be a part of life. A good part of life from her perspective and a strange one from his. Fritz was also the only one who knew about them. At least, he was the only friend of hers who did.

Goldia, in turn, grew accustomed to life in the village a lot easier than she initially expected. Her responsibilities primarily included feeding and watering the chickens, doing a few simple chores around the house, and irrigating a few plants that were out of reach of the rain or that that needed more than the rain could provide (these consisted of a few interesting flowers that Fritz explained his mother had bought and planted). This left her with some free time, so Fritz bought her some sewing equipment with the money he would’ve spent at the inn and let her do that as a hobby when the relatively easier parts of the farm to maintain had been cared for by her. For now, she was going to make coats. It was summer now, but  Germany got cold, and it had been hard enough to get Oswald to allow her to take the regalia with her, let alone one of her coats. “It’s warm, you’ll be fine” seemed to be his ridiculous message. She had finally convinced him to let her take one, but unpacking the one he had selected had revealed it was old and too small for her. She hadn’t needed a coat in a long time because of how little time she spent outdoors while she was ill anyway. And now, she needed a coat that fit her. She was also going to surprise Fritz by making him one; she had seen his hanging from its stand near the front door and was very unsatisfied with its condition. He mustn’t have gotten a new one in a while. And so, she set to work. This would also serve as good practice for the sewing she planned to do more regularly in the future for the rest of the town, as a contribution trade she felt she should have, especially as she got to know their neighbors better.

There was a church in the town as well, but the more she thought about it, the less religious Goldia grew. Sure, she’d said that to Fritz and prayed the first time they’d eaten, but he hadn’t asked her again and she hadn’t brought it up herself, and so her rosary ended up gathering dust in her trunk. But really, what had being Catholic ever done for her and her family? The exorcisms? The scriptures that condemned her brother, mother, and eventually her, to them? Fritz wasn’t actively Catholic, and Goldia quickly lost habit with her growing dislike of it the more she thought of it. And so they didn’t attend.

As far as that witch and her master were concerned, she and her uncle gradually lost dread of them. Goldia had fought her off once, and was never going to make the same mistake of letting her in again. The rest of the week passed without incident from their direction, but the girl remained cautious. That boy was clearly not one to gave up.

Thinking of the witch and her master made her think of Enjel. But as she thought more about it, and counseled with herselves, she found that the other three all still felt very apathetic. They felt she hadn’t belonged and knew it, that it was best to move on from her loss. Goldia was at first shocked at how they treated her death, but as she thought more about it, it made sense, from each of their perspectives. Fleta had never known who Enjel was until Goldia had saved the angel from herself, and hadn’t really gotten along with her in the few days they’d spent together. Harpae had always deeply distrusted the girl, and Lisette even more so. Their distrust rubbed off on Fleta, resulting in a general consensus that agreed that her loss was for the best. This made Goldia sad. None of herselves knew the Cherubina of Shed Wings like she did, as a curious, intelligent friend who was really even more of a child than Fleta had ever been. But she decided not to think of it too much. Enjel was gone, and there was no point in grieving over someone who wasn’t even real and who most of yourself didn’t even like.

That brought up another question for Goldia: Why weren’t the three merging into her, like Lisette and Harpae had been doing on the first night here? She was actually more in tune with each of them than she had been while Enjel was still around, and yet they were still distinguishable. Fleta had a good answer to that.

“Because you have used your mirror to save me, to freeze Harpae, and to fight Lisette. You have validated us by using it on us, and now have a lot more control over how visible we are to you.”

Goldia, all of her, including Fleta after she said it, was surprised and impressed. It made sense, subconsciously, and so it came out of Fleta’s recently reconstructed mouth. It was relieving for Goldia. The witch had made her stronger without intending to, and it gave her a sense of satisfaction.

And then there was Charlotte. Charlotte Schmidt, Abalard’s daughter. She reminded Goldia of the old Fleta, just like her Uncle had thought, but with a few differences. First, she had a fair deal more self-confidence than that early Fleta, and thus found it easier to restrain herself when she was about to lose her temper or say something rude. This happened not very often at first, but as the days wore on, and they played together more and more (Charlotte even coming over to visit Goldia during the day when both of their chores were done), she lost more and more often, getting angrier each time. She never accused Goldia of cheating, but she sometimes looked like she thought it. She usually just got after herself, demanding of herself why she had made such dumb mistakes in front of Goldia. Sometimes it felt as if she were talking to someone else, blaming them and asking why they’d made her lose. Sometimes it gave Goldia ugly flashbacks of her circus not long forgotten.

Fritz had started growing restless after the first week, when no letter from Oswald Die Heilige had arrived. After the second week, he began worrying in earnest, and, with Goldia’s help, composed a short letter addressed to Oswald requesting the follow-up information his carriage driver had promised. They sent it off the next day when a postman came through, and waited for several more days.

 

Then one day, in the afternoon while Fritz was wrapping up fieldwork for the day, a stagecoach stopped at the end of the street from his house. The door opened, and a very well dressed man stepped out. People stopped for a moment and stared at the fine newcomer, but got back to their business, occasionally shooting glances.

Oswald Die Heilige was, surprisingly to Fritz, not obscenely obese and flabby. Fritz examined him as he asked his carriage driver something, probably which house was the Leidls’. The man was actually approaching, but not equal to Fritz on a muscular and general fitness level. He had a well-kept mustache below his nose and was otherwise clean-shaven. His hair was short, black and sleek. He wore no wig, also contrary to Fritz’s unflattering image of the man. He wore a deep blue overcoat and shorts, with stockings reaching up to his knees. He wore no weapon, but he did use a fancy cane. His black shoes had gold buckles, and as he started walking down the dirt street toward Fritz, he took obvious care not to get them filthy. Watching him step so carefully made Fritz shake his head slightly in amusement. Apparently the driver who had dropped off Goldia had forgotten to mention that the messenger would be Oswald himself.

Oswald rested his cane against the fence, leaned on it, and, seeing that he already had Fritz’s attention and obviously pleased by it, began to speak.

“Mr. Leidl. Pleased to meet you.” he spoke with a voice that was so used to being obeyed that every word sounded as confident as him.

“Pleased to meet you.” Fritz said, in a way that, if Oswald had been paying attention, gave away that he did not feel as such.

“How’s our niece? Is she… holding herself together?” he said, lowering his voice somewhat.

“She’s fine.” Fritz replied shortly. Oswald was not convinced.

“Look, first and foremost, I would like to apologize to you for leaving her with you for a week. I had some legal business and whatnot to work with, in preparation for what I have prepared for you.”

Fritz raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You see, my friend, you actually have a grand opportunity in front of you. But I need you to cooperate with me. Can you do that?”

“That depends.”

Oswald sighed. “You know, let’s go someplace more… private that your farm fence. You do have an inn in this town, yes?”

Fritz hopped over the fence. “Yes, but let’s bring Goldia along with us.”

Oswald immediately shook his head. “No. She can’t know quite yet, she’ll cloud your judgement if we include her.”

_ Or maybe she’ll make it too clear for your liking.  _ Thought Fritz. But out loud, he sighed.

“Very well. Let me go inside and tell her to stay put, and not to worry that I’m not home.”

Oswald waved a hand and grunted. “Very well.”

Fritz left Oswald standing against the fence, staring off into space, and entered the house. Goldia looked up from her knitting. She was almost done with her coat. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No.” Fritz said, then closed the door. He checked all the windows, saw that they were closed, and answered again. “Yes. Oswald is here, and he wants to talk with me out of range of your hearing. We’re going to the inn to talk. If you want you can follow us, but be very careful.”

Goldia’s eyes widened, then she nodded. “Alright, I will wait a few minutes and then head to the inn after you.”

Fritz nodded, and opened the door. “Alright, stay here dear.” he said with a wink.

Goldia winked back as he closed the door and called for Oswald, who snapped out of his stare and called for his carriage driver to wait for him. The man touched his forehead in acknowledgment, and the Austrian nobleman joined Fritz in their trip to the inn, taking his cane.

As the men started down the street together, Oswald started the conversation. It’s not as if Fritz would’ve.

“So, how is Keiferburg these days?” he said pleasantly.

“It’s just fine.” Fritz responded simply.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to start a conversation with you.” Oswald said, equally simply. “It’s not as if we’re enemies, anyway.”

“Well, we’re certainly not quite friends either. You did just leave our niece with me with utterly no advance notice.”

“As I said, I’m deeply sorry about that. I would’ve told you sooner if it wasn’t such short notice for me also!” He laughed uncontagiously. “You see, she’d only just come out of the hospital, dishonestly at that, and needed somewhere to stay.”

“And you’re telling me you don’t have any accommodations?”

“Well, no, of course not! But I knew it was going to be a busy week for me, and I’m not married, so no one would have been home to take care of her, you see.” His voice said he didn’t believe it, but expected Fritz to believe it anyway, which he didn’t.

_ And you think I don’t have work to do? Real work?  _ He thought with irritation, but decided to drop it. Oswald, a testament to his observance, took this as acceptance.

“You say she got out of the hospital dishonestly?” Fritz changed the subject, turning the corner to the street where the inn came into view.

“Yes, but I’ll tell you in the inn. Ironic how such a crowded place becomes such a good atmosphere for privacy, no?”

“Indeed.”

They reached the inn, entered it, and sat down in the corner farthest from the bar.

Oswald looked around, satisfied with the slight hubbub of people who had just finished their work for today, and rested his cane against his chair. “Let us begin.” Oswald said, his voice changing to a more professional tone.

“Alright, start with how she got out of the hospital.” Fritz took the initiative.

“Very well. You see, I am firmly opposed to the idea that she ‘recovered’ from her illness. Do you have any idea how insane she was before she went into a coma? She was raving mad. She couldn’t even decide what her name was. She couldn’t even  _ remember _ what her name was.”

“But didn’t she pass examination after several days?” Fritz asked.

“Is that what she told you?” Oswald said slyly. “Because they let her out of there in no time flat after she awoke. I’m certain she’s bribed them to let her out. She may be crazy, but-”

“Now stop right there.” Fritz said. “You see, I am firmly opposed to the idea that she still has an illness. Do you have any idea how pleasant she’s been in the time you’ve left her with me?”

Oswald couldn’t seem to hear him. “Anyways, she’s only out of the hospital because she could pay her way out. She’s in no state to manage that much money, especially when I should be handling it for her.”

“Oh?” Fritz raised an eyebrow.

“Look, even if she’s somehow convinced you that she has a grip on her faculties, you should know that I can offer you half her estate if you will testify against her. The court isn’t satisfied with my claim and the hospital has built up a fair amount of evidence-”

“Did you say ‘testify’?” Fritz said. “Good sir, if I were to ‘testify’ that she’s insane, I would be lying. She’s in control of her mind, I’ve spent the last week with her while I doubt you spent more than a few minutes with her.”

Oswald seemed incapable of believing that she was not crazy. “But, you see, her record from before her coma speaks far more convincingly than her record afterwards. There’s also my personal experience, which I rely on a lot more than any record from that hospital.”

“Can you read me those records?” Fritz asked. He could read, just very slowly.

“Well… no, I don’t have them with me…” Oswald said.

“Well then, I find myself relying a lot more on my personal experience than any hospital records I can’t even see.” Fritz stated simply.

“Well, here are two papers that you can and should see.” Oswald was undeterred. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two documents. He laid them out on the table, side by side, facing Fritz. Fritz immediately distrusted them both. He couldn’t read either of them very well, and they were coming from a man whose very perception of reality was altered to suit what benefited him. He obviously wanted Goldia’s assets, and any claim that validated her sanity had to be wrong.

“This one,” he said, pointing to the one on the right, “is a signature of witness. If you sign here, you agree to testify in court that our niece is mentally unfit to possess her property. Do this, and I will split her estate evenly with you. Sign this paper,” he said, now pointing to the left one, “and you will agree to take care of her, receiving pittance until she is twenty-one, by which point she’s unlikely to still be alive and the hospital will not be able to defend her mental state any longer. I will inherit her estate, and you will be left with nothing more than whatever money you’ve held onto by that point.”

Fritz looked closely at each of them, trying and eventually succeeding to confirm that that was what they actually said. Then he looked his brother-in-law in the eye and said:

“You do realize that since she is legitimately recovered from her illness, that she can offer me much more than you when she inherits her money once again?”

“That’s ridiculous! I- I am much wealthier than Roman Per was!” Oswald blustered.

“Can you show me that documentation?” Fritz demanded.

Oswald’s face was contorted in frustration. This stupid commoner was not very cooperative. The worst part was, if Fritz was right (which he obviously couldn’t be but still) about Goldia being legitimately sane again, she had so much more to offer than he did.

“I see.” Fritz said. “Well, if that’s the argument you have for me, I will take the pittance. It’s 20 guldens a month, yes? Also, do you have a pen? I don’t.”

Oswald hesitantly drew a pen from his pocket but did not hand it over yet. “You’re making a foolish mistake, brother.”

“I’m quite certain I’m not. Now give me the pen.” Fritz reached out his hand.

Oswald thought for a moment. Could he try moving his niece to another caretaker and seeing if they’d take it? No, that was against the law. She had to be cared for a family member if possible, and Fritz was the only Leidl he knew was still alive. Could he try threatening Fritz? Unlikely, his niece would definitely add it to her case against him. He was stuck, and there was no way he could try to force his way without incriminating himself. It was an unfamiliar feeling to the nobleman. With a sour look on his face, he handed Fritz the pen. But as Fritz held the pen to the paper, he stopped.

“Actually, I’m not signing this quite yet.” He put the pen down. “I want to see it in front of the court first.”

Oswald steamed, his plan once again thwarted. “Fine.” He said, the word full of venom.

“I will also bring Goldia. She should be aware and involved.” Fritz stated.

“Alright, alright! What more do you want?” Oswald shook his hands in frustration.

“A ride, and a lawyer.” Fritz stood, pocketing the documents he’d almost signed and stretching. “How long’s the trip to Vienna?”

“Too long for today. We leave tomorrow morning.” Oswald said bitterly, taking his cane and leaving his pen as he stood and headed for the door. “Meet here at sunrise.” he slammed the door. Fritz smirked.

“You can come over here now, Goldia.” he called.

Goldia, a bright smile on her face, stood and ran over to her uncle from her seat a few tables away, and hugged him.

“Thank you, Fritz.” she said quietly.

“You’re worth it, Goldia.” he responded. “I have never seen a child as sincere and kind as you in my life, rich or not.”

She smiled as a tear flowed down her cheek and she hugged him even tighter. How immeasurably lucky she was to have such an uncle.

 

Charlotte Schmidt stood, watching from her porch as the rich man left the inn. He looked very angry as he stormed away from the building and down the street. Her eyes flickered briefly between hazel and gold.

_ Now, Charlotte, we’re going to get you to go with that man to Vienna, alright? _

Charlotte nodded.

_ After all, Goldia needs to get put in her place, doesn’t she? _

Charlotte nodded once again, with fervor.

 

Chapter 11

 

Abalard burst into the house, startling his wife who had been making dinner. She nearly dropped her ladle she’d been stirring the gruel with. She thought he’d been off doing his job feeding Fritz’s animals and watering his plants for him, now that he had left.

“Emelia, have you seen Charlotte anywhere?!” he asked, panicked.

“I didn’t see her wake up this morning, and she’s not in her bed, so I figured she’d gone out to get her chores done before I woke up!” Emilia replied, flustered.

“No! She’s not outside the house anywhere I can see, she’s not in town anywhere, where could she be?!” Abalard sat down heavily at the table, his face in his hands. “Where could you be, Charlotte… why couldn’t you just tell us?” he moaned.

Emilia took the gruel off the heat and sat down next to him, putting an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sure she’s just fine. You know how tricky kids can be.”

Abalard snorted. “She’s never hidden from me since she was very little. What has gotten into her? She hasn’t been herself lately. It’s like she has an imaginary friend…”

“Now, now, Abalard, just wait till lunchtime. She’ll be back when she’s hungry. You know her.” Emilia patted him on the shoulder.

_ Do I know her?  _ Abalard thought miserably.  _ I don’t seem to know her anymore. I wouldn’t be this worried about her if I did know her that well. Oh, what to do, what to do… _

 

It was an awkward silence that started their trip to Vienna. They’d all gotten into the stagecoach after meeting Oswald in the inn, where he’d stayed for the night. Oswald sat on his own in the front seat and his brother-in-law and niece behind him. Fritz and Goldia had loaded their collective luggage, which consisted of a few changes of clothes and the set of regalia, into her trunk and he had put it in the carriage hold. Now, they sat in silence as the horses got started. This suited Fritz and his niece fine, until an hour in and Fritz felt like Goldia needed something to say to take the edge off.

“Goldia, what have you been sewing lately?” he asked her.

Goldia turned to him, somewhat startled that he’d broken the silence. “A-a coat and something else.” She hadn’t told him about his coat that she planned to make; it was a surprise.

“What else?” Fritz was intrigued.

“It’s, uh… it’s a surprise.” Goldia said awkwardly. She understandably didn’t like talking around her other uncle.

Oswald snorted at her response. “A surprise indeed.” Goldia rolled her eyes.

Fritz shot him a glare that the man wouldn’t have seen even if he’d been paying attention. He decided to try something else.

“So, Oswald, you and Roman Per fought in the recent war, I hear?”

“Ha! That we did!” he said, his mood lifting considerably.

“Fighting off those Prussians must have been intense.” Fritz said, attempting sympathy.

“Indeed, but we held the line proudly, like true Austro-Hungarians, defending you Germans amongst our many allies.” Oswald ‘s gaze grew distant. “But alas, while no charge of theirs was going to break our spirits or our defenses, their cowardly artillery barrages blasted us into eventual submission. You Germans, once our bravest allies, gave in and left our empire, during and after the war.”

Fritz rolled his eyes. He thought he’d nearly gotten somewhere with this man, but no. He was no strategist or officer of any kind and was in no position to argue the issue with the nobleman, but he distrusted the claim to blame Germany.

Goldia just shrugged. She didn’t know much about it either.

_ It’s going to be a long ride.  _ Fritz sighed.

 

“Well, Mr. Leidl, let’s hear something about you.” Oswald said suddenly after another hour or so of silence. Fritz looked up, startled slightly. He’d almost been asleep.

“Yes?”

“Have you been married before?”

“No.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Never met the right woman.” Fritz said simply.

“I see. Good luck.” Oswald said, equally simply.

 

Another hour passed. Then, Goldia finally built up the courage to ask something.

“Uncle Oswald?” she began.

“Yes?” he said, still facing forward. “What is it?” He was clearly still convinced that she was insane by how he regarded her.

“I’m just curious… Who has been taking care of my property while I’ve been gone?”

“I have.” he answered. “I have paid the servants and maintenance to keep it together with the money that Roman Per left me, just as his will says.”

“How much money did he leave you?” She asked.

“Oh, just enough to keep his property together for several years. Which is ridiculous because I can’t use any of what I’m paying to maintain, his will binds me to care for it without utilizing it until his children can use it. It’s simply ridiculous.”

“I see.” Goldia shrugged. “Anyway, where will we be staying once we arrive in Vienna?”

“Why, you will be staying with me in my residence. You are my guests, after all.”

This politeness was very out of place, and Fritz detected it with suspicion. While it was generous of him and would save Fritz rent money, Oswald’s strange hospitality was something to keep an eye on. But then, being in his house may reveal some interesting things about him. Fritz decided to go along with it, for now.

“That’s very kind of you. We’ll be honored to be in your home.”

Goldia nodded in agreement.

“That you will, that you will.” Oswald replied.

 

Goldia dozed off as they neared the end of the ride. She had noticed how quiet Lisette had been since last night, when they had once again been drawn into the conflict over her home, and she heard now what Lisette had been thinking, staring at the lavender-glowing moon in her sacred space.

_ I know I said I never wanted to go back in that house again.  _ Lisette began.

_ Yes, I know. I’m worried for you, that maybe winning this battle isn’t what we- _

_ No. This is a fight we need to win.  _ Lisette interrupted with firmness characteristic of her.

Goldia paused, surprised.  _ But I thought you never wanted to set foot in there again... _

_ This isn’t about us anymore.  _ Lisette stated.  _ This is for Fritz. _

_ Oh.  _ Goldia thought quietly. Lisette continued.

_ We must support him as he supports us in winning this fight. We will defeat our worthless Viennese uncle and we will give Fritz what he was much more deserving than our mother to receive.  _ Lisette paused, taking a mental breath, then asked:

_ Do you remember what he told you last night? _

_ Yes.  _ Goldia answered immediately.

_ Well, Fritz is worth it.   _ Lisette replied.  _ I have never seen an adult as sincere and kind as him in your life, rich or not. _

Goldia smiled.  _ I will win for him. _

_ Yes you will. _

 

Finally, they arrived in Vienna. Oswald and his stagecoach got them past the gates and through the busy streets. For Fritz, it was a novel experience to see so many people in the same place. It didn’t really unsettle or worry him, but it did take a little getting used to. As for Goldia, the streets outside were also largely unfamiliar. Roman Per’s home was in the countryside, and while he did also own a small home in town, he and his family had almost never used it. He really only had it to satisfy some obscure law that required noblemen of Vienna to own property in the city limits. So, she was also largely unaccustomed to being around so many people. She remembered wishing she had lived closer to town, so she had more girls to play with, but now she was less enthusiastic about being so surrounded by people. Oswald was obviously not perturbed. If anything, he was uplifted by being surrounded by the masses, if only because he knew he was richer than all of them.

When they arrived at his large home in the wealthier district of town, and exited the stagecoach, Fritz unlocked the hold and lifted their trunk out, following Oswald as he showed him and Goldia into the grand house.

He gave an extensive tour of every room they had to go through before they got to the guest quarters. The front hall, the dining room, the studio, and one of the living rooms. Goldia found it far less impressive than Fritz did, far less impressive than her own home. It was certainly extravagant, she knew, but it didn’t come close to her own family’s house. And Fritz knew that, meaning that in reality, Oswald was just showing off a portion of what Goldia owned.

Having been shown to their different rooms, which were each half as large as Fritz’s entire home, Fritz left the trunk in Goldia’s after taking a change of clothes with him. Oswald excused himself to start arranging dinner. Goldia began looking through her things, checking to make sure the regalia were all still there.

But they weren't. The scythe was missing.

Goldia’s eyes widened as she looked at her incomplete set. She knew she had brought that one, it hadn’t disappeared before the trip had started.

It must have disappeared along the way.

“Uncle!” she called, knocking on his door. “Something’s wrong!”

“What is it?” he asked, opening the door.

“Well, you see, one of my regalia is missing.” she explained. “The scythe one.”

“Oh dear… You’re sure you packed it?” he asked.

“Yes. I know I did.”

“Then someone must have stolen it from the carriage, but how is that possible? The hold was locked, and the thing had been moving the entire time…”

“I’m not sure, Uncle. But it’s important. One of my perso-”

“Don’t worry, I know it’s important. Come in, let’s get some privacy before we discuss this further.” Goldia nodded, and entered his room. He closed the door behind her.

“Sorry to cut you off, but you should never speak about your other personalities while we’re here. If anyone overhears you, they can be used as a witness against your sanity.”

“You’re right… sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Anyways, I don’t think it’s worth bringing up with Oswald. He won’t be any help, and may even somehow find a way to connect it to your supposed ‘insanity’.”

Goldia sighed. She already hated being here. Oswald was a snake; of course he’d wanted them in his home. That way he could catch her whenever she slipped up, if she did.

“I know, it’s rough.” Fritz said sympathetically. “But don’t worry; I’m fairly certain we have the legal advantage. His case against you is weak, and he’ll do everything he can to build it. Invalidating you is his only chance at victory.”

Fritz opened the door again, and stepped out after her. “Speaking of which, we should meet with him and discuss the matter. It’s unlikely we’ll get anything done with the rest of today, but that’s alright. Gives us both time to think.” they started down the stairs to the dining room, where Oswald was talking with his cook. “Unfortunately, that also gives  _ him  _ time to think.” Fritz whispered.

Oswald spotted them entering the dining room and waved, cutting off his servant. “Hello again, Fritz. Hello, my niece.”

“Hello.” They both said.

“What’s the schedule?” Fritz asked.

“Dinner within the hour. You’ll be summoned, and we’ll talk while we enjoy it. I’m interested to see what you think of my esteemed kitchen’s cuisine. Not German food, my friend. Austrian!”

“What do we do until then?” Goldia asked.

“I have a library on the floor above your rooms where you can entertain yourselves. Please do until you are summoned.” Oswald waved dismissively, and resumed his conversation with his chef. Goldia and Fritz left, heading upstairs together.

 

In an alley near Oswald’s home, a short, thin young girl with brown hair and hazel eyes as well as skin even paler than it usually was was crying, clutching a small golden scythe in her hand as she twitched and her eyes flickered gold.

_ I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to leave home. Why did you make me do this, Enjel? What do you want?  _ She thought tearfully.

_ Now, now, Charlotte,   _ came a voice that sounded like hers, but not quite.  _ you know we’re not going to stay here forever. We’re just going to stay in town until the opportunity comes. _

_ What opportu- ow! That hurts!  _ The girl pressed her hand against her forehead as a slight headache hit her. Her hand involuntarily squeezed the scythe even tighter.

_ Don’t worry. It won’t be long. And when this is all over, you won’t have to worry about a thing. _

 

In a different alley, closer to the main gates of the city where the carriage had entered, an older, sharp-faced man and a young woman with purple hair and a basket walked away from each other, having finished their brief meeting.

 

Chapter 12

 

_ Clad in peace, but filled with guilt, _

_ Surrounded by friends, who were surrounded by enemies, _

_ Was the queen of the land she and her counterparts had built. _

_ The queen’s advisors had moved on from their loss, _

_ Urging her to follow their example of neglect, _

_ And forsake the friend she had treacherously rewarded. _

_ And in time, she followed their course, _

_ Casting her friend from her feelings just as she had cast her from her kingdom, _

_ Never considering that perhaps, one day, her betrayed ally might return, _

_ Full of fury for never having belonged enough for her loss to have mattered, _

_ And ready to reap her revenge. _

“Oh my… what’s that poem called?” Goldia asked her uncle nervously.

“It has no tit- wait, it does, but what are these words?” He held out the poem book for her to see. Goldia leaned forward from her seat next to him and read the bold, fancy font-type at the top of the page.

**Engel Sense**

“Oh, the title is Angel Scythe…” Goldia said quietly.

“What?” Fritz said. He couldn’t read the strange font very well, and Goldia was being very quiet.

“Angel Scythe.” She repeated.

“Hmmm. Interesting. Doesn’t mean much to me, but it’s good practice.”

“Yes, you read very well.” Goldia sounded a little distant. “All you needed was some… practice…”

“Yes, practice… Goldia, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It just feels like… that poem was written about me…”

“What? How?” Fritz asked, then remembered the missing scythe and reconsidered. “Nevermind. Tell me about it later, tonight.”

“Alright.” she nodded.

Fritz smiled. “Anyways, thank you so much for helping me read. It’ll be very useful for me in these next few days; I haven’t read in a long time.”

“I don’t think you ever told me when you learned to read.”

“Sounds like a good topic for dinner!” came Oswald from the library door, causing them both to turn and face him from their seats. “Come now, the meal is ready. Fritz, be sure that she handles herself this evening.” he added with a glance in his niece’s direction.

Goldia’s face reddened slightly.

“There’s no call for that. She can handle herself, as you and I know.” Fritz stated, standing and starting towards the door, Goldia following him.

“You may be convinced, but I’m not so sure.” Oswald replied, heading downstairs.

_ Clearly.  _ Goldia and Fritz thought as they followed him.

They arrived at the dining room. It was suitably spacious for a man like Oswald. Much larger than he or any family he could hope to raise if he’d been married would really need, which fit a man like him just fine. Oswald sat at one end of the long, fine wood table, Fritz to his right and Goldia to Fritz’s right. The fine, clean plates, bowls and glasses were empty, but that was soon to change.

Oswald snapped his fingers and the door to the kitchen popped open as several well-dressed waiters appeared and laid several dishes in front of the three, most of which was familiar to Goldia, and to a lesser extent, Fritz as well. It was not only Austrian, it was specifically Viennese-style cuisine, which meant lots of pastries that everything else took a back seat to, such as the fine soup and smoked meat. What particularly caught Goldia’s eye was the Apfelstrudel. It had always been her favorite, and her eyes kept bouncing back to it as she examined the rest of the dishes as they were laid out.

Topfenstrudel, powidl, tafelspitz, selchfleisch, and a few choice wines among other toppings and sides were there for the three to enjoy. Fritz’s eyebrows were raised, and you could tell he was hungry but trying not to look as amazed as he was by that much food in one place. Oswald, however, was unintentionally starting to ruin the effect with his obvious smugness. In Fritz, he saw reluctant impressment. In Goldia, he saw mere approval, which irked him slightly.

“Well, now, what are you waiting for?” Oswald said as the waiters left. “Start yourselves off with some food and we’ll begin.”

Fritz reached out, pulled the stew towards him and started spooning it into his bowl. Oswald watched with mild annoyance as he scooted it back across the table and, using his hands, no less, started pulling off pieces of pastries and dipping them in it. How uncivilized. These were fine Viennese pastries, not common bread sticks!

Goldia decided to start with her favorite. She used her knife and fork to properly cut a portion of it off and place it on her plate, and lightly sprinkled sugar on it from a spoon. Oswald was at first gratified that at least one of his guests knew manners, but was annoyed that it was the insane one.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything, Oswald?” Fritz said, after filling his dishes with food. He hadn’t taken any wine, and neither had Goldia. Oswald still hadn’t touched anything, and had been busy staring in poorly disguised horror at Fritz’s etiquette. He snapped out of his irritated observation and started serving himself with exaggerated manners.

“Of course I’m eating. What kind of host doesn’t enjoy himself in his company?” he said, delicately loading up his plate and filling his glass with wine. Fritz noticed his care with amusement, but said nothing. Goldia was starting into her Apfelstrudel, glad to be able to try her favorite treat again.

“So, the legal situation.” Oswald began, taking a sip of wine. “I presume you’ve already tried to explain it to her?” Fritz turned to him while Goldia subtly rolled her eyes while eating.

“Her name is Goldia, and yes.” Fritz said raising his fork. He noticed how Oswald was going out of his way to avoid calling her by name. “I have explained it to her without difficulty.”

“Alright then.” Oswald said evenly. “Then I shall carry on where I left off with you.”

“Please do.” Fritz said, barely swallowing before speaking. Oswald winced and took a bite of his own as an example which flew right over Fritz’s head.

“Very well.” he said after a few moments. “Now, before I start, I would like to make it clear that your case, Fritz, doesn’t have to oppose mine. We could have the same goal, if you would open your eyes.”

“Oh?” Fritz knew where this was going.

“You see, no matter what, I will eventually come to own Roman Per’s assets. There is only the matter of where you will have put yourself when that time comes, how wise you will choose leading up to then.”

“What do you mean you’ll ‘eventually’ come to own my home?” Goldia spoke up.

“Silence, girl!” Oswald snapped impatiently. “Respect me in my own house!” Goldia frowned.

“Excuse you, brother-in-law!” Fritz laid down his fork. “She is your niece, and this is her discussion as much as it is yours and mine. I’m not having another discussion about this without her.”

Oswald’s grip on his utensils tightened visibly as he reigned himself in. “Very well.” he turned reluctantly to Goldia. “Now, what I mean by ‘eventually’ is that there are two possible outcomes of this case: A, your illness is proven and I take responsibility of your assets or B, your illness somehow remains disguised and you fall apart before you are old enough to assume responsibility of your property, and I will have to for you.” he took another sip of wine as they stared at him.“Does that make sense to you?” he asked unnecessarily.

“No.” they both responded simultaneously. Oswald realized he was the only one still holding his utensils, and he put them down, committing himself fully to the conversation for the time being.

“Why is this so hard for you to understand?” he said irritably, as if speaking to children, which was very much the wrong way to approach it.

“Why is this so hard for YOU to understand?” Fritz responded with heat. “There’s no evidence other than your inability to accept that she changed in that hospital! Why can’t you see that she’s not the same Goldia who was sent there?!”

“Yeah! Who are you to call people insane anyway!?” Goldia called out, uncharacteristically whiny. She stopped and stared at her half-eaten strudel, trying not to show how embarrassed she was in the face of Oswald’s trembling glare. Fritz just glanced at her in surprise, then turned back to his brother-in-law.

_ Why did I do that?  _ She wondered. She felt shaken after that outburst, that break in her normal attitude.

“You see, it will only go downhill with a girl like her.” Oswald carried on. “She may have escaped the hospital, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t belong there. As I’m sure you’re both aware, she’s far more capable of bribing them than even me.”

“You’ve brought this up before, and I am similarly unimpressed with your evidence, which is in reality nothing.” Fritz said, picking up his fork and resuming eating.

Oswald went to reply as Goldia stared at her half-eaten strudel and decided to take another bite. But as she stuck her fork into it, an image of a rotten sugary supper appeared in her mind, the apfelstrudel filled with black, ugly muck. But as quickly as it came, it left, and she was once again staring at the normal-looking one on the plate in front of her. Her eyes darkened slightly and she stabbed the fork hard into the strudel, dinging the plate and interrupting Oswald in his self-serving response to Fritz. They both turned as she stared at it in contempt.

“What… is in this?”

“Um…” Oswald stammered. “Apples? Sugar? Cinnamon?”

“Not fast enough.” Goldia stated, with startling coldness in her voice. Then, slowly, she turned to face him.

“What. Did. You. Put. In. The. Strudel.” her voice was startling to Fritz and Oswald. It was low, cutting, and frightening. Oswald’s expression darkened as well.

“Nothing that isn’t in everything on this table.” Oswald replied, in an equally disturbing voice. Goldia’s eyes widened.

“What?!” Fritz threw down his fork. “What have you fed us, Oswald? Are you trying to-”

“Relax, friend, it’s a special seasoning that has no flavor and no color I picked up recently that only affects the mentally unfit.”

Goldia’s composure changed. She withdrew and stared at her food, fierceness replaced with unsteady peace as she tried to remain calm.

“You are trying to cause her a  relapse with a drug?!” Fritz brought his fist down on the table. “How dare you!”

“It won’t have any effect if she has no mental illness.” Oswald said simply. “Are you experiencing anything strange? I know I’m not.”

Fritz stammered for a moment, but then he had an idea: Goldia was the only one who’d sprinkled sugar on her food. He smiled in a way that startled Oswald, and grabbed Goldia’s strudel-bearing plate from in front of her and laid it in front of the Austrian nobleman, followed by the sugar, which he applied liberally.

“Eat this strudel.” He demanded.

He and Goldia watched as Oswald stared at the sugar.

“That’s… a lot of sugar…” he said haltingly.

“Do I look like I care?” Fritz replied.

Oswald frowned, then, to their surprise, started eating the strudel, sugar included. After a minute, he’d eaten the whole thing.

“Well, my niece, you have missed out on some fine, albeit overly sugary, apfelstrudel.” He said at last, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “As you can see, I remain unaffected. She, however, is clearly struggling.” He said to Fritz.

Fritz, momentarily confused, retorted: “She would have been fine if you hadn’t drugged her. If you have to drug people to show they’re insane, it shows how weak your case really is.”

Goldia mumbled something.

“What was that?” Oswald asked.

Goldia shook her head, closing her eyes and sitting quietly.

Oswald rolled his eyes and turned back to Fritz. “If her mind can’t withstand such a simple test, it actually shows how strong my case really is, if you think about it.”

“You can’t be seri-”

“Fritz, come on, you’re cheating yourself if you continue defending her. She won’t be able to maintain the charade for long. You’ll see tomorrow in court.”

“What exactly is scheduled tomorrow?” Fritz said.

“Tomorrow, I have paid and arranged for her to submit to a series of examinations and tests to judge her mental health. After that is complete, she will be diagnosed with manic depression and in the subsequent trial I will be granted responsibility of her possessions.”

“Manic depression?” Fritz exclaimed. “What is that?”

“It’s summarized by recurrent depression and bipolar disorder.” Oswald explained simply.

“Recurrent depression is a symptom of a person with a dark past.” Fritz stated with growing anger. “And bipolar disorder had been addressed until you drugged her! What have you done?! How long does it last?!” Fritz demanded.

“It usually wears off very fast when the patient sleeps.” Oswald explained, unfazed by Fritz’s rage.

Goldia stood and left, walking very precariously. Not in how she moved, necessarily, but in how she carried herself. She was stiff and overly calculated. Fritz and Oswald watched her close the door behind her.

“If she refuses to submit to the examination, it will stand against her in court.” Oswald went on after a few moments.

“That’s it, Oswald.” Fritz stood. “You will lose tomorrow, mark my words. You are not incriminating our niece and making off with her fortune. And when she is restored to her wealth, she won’t have forgotten this despicable scheme of yours.”

“When she is properly serving her recovery time in the hospital, I will not forget this scheme of yours either.” Oswald replied as Fritz stormed out of the room after his niece.

 

Chapter 13

 

“Hello again, Charlotte.”

Charlotte turned around, clutching the scythe in her left hand. It was the witch, her golden eyes contrasting the growing darkness of the empty street around them as the sun set further and further below the city wall and eventually the horizon. Her grip loosened on the regalia.

Enjel had walked Charlotte to this desolate street in one of the poor districts of Vienna, saying there was a friend coming to meet them here. A friend, it became apparent, in the form of the witch she had to thank for this increasingly unwelcome member of her mind.

“Hello again.” Charlotte’s mouth said as her eyes twinkled gold. Inside her mind, Charlotte was watching from the window view of a locked castle tower as Enjel, holding the pocket mirror, used her mouth to talk with the witch.

“Oh, hello again, Enjel.” the witch said. Enjel smiled.

“So, where are we staying?” she asked. “Charlotte needs to rest. She’s worked very hard today.”

“Indeed she has. Follow me.” The woman started down the street past Charlotte, who followed.

“Now, could you tell me why you had me obtain that scythe for you?” the witch asked after a few moments of walking. “It was a very difficult spell to make it fall through the bottom of the carriage.”

“It makes me stronger in here.” Enjel said, tapping Charlotte’s forehead with Charlotte’s finger. “And it scares Goldia to have it missing.”

“I presume that also explains the message you had me send her?”

Charlotte nodded.

“I see.” Said the witch. “Don’t make a habit of leaning on my magic, it’s... taxing.”

“How so?” Enjel was curious.

“It’s not important.” The woman dismissed it as she turned the corner. “Here, there’s a home everyone believes is haunted on this street. I’ve used it from time to time for visits here.”

“Which one is it?” Enjel asked, following her.

“This one.” The witch pointed to a house that was larger than its neighbors and in better repair. It was familiar to Enjel, or more rather, it was familiar to Goldia and Enjel had spent enough time with her for the building to be familiar to her as well. She couldn’t remember why, though. The witch walked up to the door, opened it, and entered, Charlotte following her inside.

It was a humble home, but it was a well-maintained one. None of the three had any clue why it was looking so well-kept after so long. It was mostly empty; there were modest beds upstairs and a couch downstairs in front of a fire that hadn’t been lit for years, perhaps decades. The kitchen and dining room were small but functional. The witch was slightly worried by this; she hadn’t seen it this well kept for a long time, and it was suspicious that it looked fine now. She decided it was not a concern, however, and didn’t say anything. She especially didn’t mention the small crossbow she knew was stowed in a cupboard in the kitchen.

“Where am I sleeping?” Enjel asked.

“Charlotte will sleep wherever you want.” the witch replied.

“I’ll sleep upstairs then.” Enjel walked up the stairs and into the bedroom, where she laid down and started to drift off. The witch watched her go, then sat down on the couch, staring into the fireplace until it lit up.

_ I really should stop using magic for today. If I use it too much, it may trigger… dreams. _

The witch hadn’t dreamed for a long time. Decades, at least. Maybe even a century.

_ Of course, it may already be too late. One more spell won’t hurt. _

The witch waved a hand at the door they had entered through and laid down after she heard the clicking sound of the lock engaging. She put her hat in her basket and laid it on the floor in front of the couch. She stared into the fireplace for a long time, long after Charlotte and Enjel began dreaming, before her own eyes closed.

 

Goldia was trembling, curled up in a ball on the bed in her room. Her head was pounding, and she held it tight between her hands as she struggled with the drug’s effect. She needed to get to sleep, but the pain was making it hard.

Pain flashed through her as visions from her fateful journey weeks ago through her own mind kept passing through her sight. She saw multiple Lisettes bursting into the dark room around her and disappearing in poofs of glass just before their scissors touched her. She could hear ghosts outside, peeking in and eventually opening the door, the candles in the room blowing out momentarily. When the lights came on, the dresses’ corpses were scattered and dripping blood all over the wood floor. The room became an attic, stuffed full of thrown out dolls dealing with their fate in a variety of sickening ways: silence, screaming, mumbling, rocking back and forth, even tearing themselves apart. Goldia herself was starting to replicate a few of them, gasping and muttering and struggling to think.

There was a knock at the door. Goldia turned her head slightly, quivering as the knob started to turn. Then it stopped, and a familiar voice broke through the madness from outside.

“Goldia? Are you decent?” Fritz called.

“Y-yes, uncle…” she said shakingly, barely audible to him. He opened the door and entered, closing it behind him.

“Oh my…” Fritz said quietly, seeing his poor niece looking so afflicted. He slowly approached and knelt down next to her, taking her relatively small hand in his. Her fingers were almost painfully cold to the touch, and she squeezed his tightly as she clamped her eyes shut.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Fritz asked.

“N-n-no…” Goldia shivered, but gripped his hands tighter and with both hands. She wanted him to stay, even if he couldn’t do much else.

“Alright. I’m not going anywhere.” Fritz  stated.

He thought a little, holding her extremely cold hands, about how she’d gotten here. Oswald was in huge trouble. He had inexcusably drugged his own niece. That wouldn’t stand up in court.

But then, wouldn’t he try to get rid of that fact? Cover-up the drug? That could not happen.

Returning to the present, Goldia had stopped shaking for the most part. Her eyes were closed and relaxed, and her breathing had calmed. Her grip had loosened on his hands. He needed to go, and fast.

“Goldia, I have to go get something to help you through tomorrow, and I have to go now. Do you need me right now?”

After a few moments, her eyes still closed, she shook her head once. “Be fast… please…” she whispered.

“I will.” Fritz withdrew his hands and quickly left the room, nearly running down the stairs and through the living room to the dining room. Oswald had left, but the servants were taking the food and dishes off the table quickly. It was mostly gone, and when they saw him, they doubled their pace. They knew.

“Stop! I want to take the wiener schnitzel plate upstairs to finish. I’m still hungry.”

One of them took the plate he’d asked for and responded. It was mostly gone. “Sorry, sir, but Lord Die Heilige specifically said-”

“Was I not specific enough?” Fritz said. “I want the plate you’re holding.” He thought for a moment as the servant  shook his head, then said: “Look, I know Oswald wants you to get rid of it, but I apologized to him for leaving the meal and he specifically said the wiener schnitzel plate was acceptable. With some salt, of course.” He added as an afterthought.  “May I have it?”

The servant and his companions glanced at each other, and then nodded. The man held out the plate, and Fritz took it gratefully and went back to his room. He applied a lot of salt to it and tightly wrapped it in one of the empty sacks Goldia had had in her trunk. He pushed the meat under his bed. It was the best hiding spot in his room he could think of. A poor hiding place, if someone was looking for it. Which they weren’t.

Fritz, his evidence secured, came downstairs and returned the plate to the servants as they finished gathering the last of the table’s bounty.

“Oh, and if Oswald asks,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the door, “I didn’t take anything. He might decide afterwards that he never authorized it, and I would appreciate you going along with it.”

The servants nodded knowingly, sharing a smile with Fritz as he left.

Fritz headed back upstairs to his niece’s room. When he knocked, there was no answer, so he called: “Goldia, may I come in?” to which there was still no answer. He decided to gently open the door a crack.

Goldia was sleeping under the covers, her body relaxed but looking very drained.

_ Poor girl.  _ Fritz thought with pity that was slowly transforming into rage. He softly closed the door and walked back to his room for the night.

_ That man has a lot to answer for now. And tomorrow, he will. _

 

Charlotte looked up with interest from her seat near the window as the door to her room was knocked. “Come in!”

The door opened, and the Cherubina of Shed Wings entered the room. Charlotte eyed the pocket mirror in her left hand.

“Well, are we going to play tonight?” Enjel asked. “I’m ready for another round.”

“Enjel, I want a turn with the mirror. It’s not fair for you to keep it from me, it’s mine!”

Enjel frowned. “But you lost last night, Remember? You said I got to have it if I won last night.”

“You’d never won before, I didn’t think it was possible…” Charlotte complained under her breath. “It wasn’t supposed to be…”

“What?” Enjel was pretty sure she knew what she said.

“Nothing. Anyways, I say you’ve had it long enough! You took me away from my home and now I’m stuck in a big city with this fairy and-“ Charlotte started to choke on her words as her eyes brimmed with tears. “Now I’m all tired, and, away from my mom and dad, and…” she swallowed and wiped her eyes. “I just can’t trust you anymore with it! You’ve gone too far! And besides, it’s not yours! You shouldn’t have been able to win! And I don’t even know what you’ll make me do tomorrow!” She pouted.

Enjel sat down next to her, listening patiently as she finished.

“Charlotte, do you understand that the wit- fairy lied to you?”

“Yeah!” Charlotte said with annoyance. “She said you’d never be able to win when she gave you to me!”

“Well,” Enjel said, quietly hiding the pocket mirror in her dress. “I lied too.”

“What?!” Charlotte stood, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You can’t lie to me! You’re inside my head!”

“Actually,” Enjel stood to face her. “you’re inside my head now.”

“What?!” Charlotte’s aggressive stance evaporated. Things were moving too fast. “T-This is my head! It’s always been mine! You can’t just-“

“You’re a failsafe, Charlotte.” Enjel said coldly. Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You played with fire, and now the fire is playing with you. You put too much use, too much power into this thing-“ Enjel tapped her pocket where the mirror was, “and now it has the power to control you. You should have been more careful.”

“But-but… nobody told me it could do that!” Charlotte was shaking.

“You never asked.” Enjel stood and moved to the door, putting a hand on the knob. “And remember, if tomorrow goes well, you won’t have anything to worry about.”

Charlotte rushed up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Stop saying that! You’re scaring me!”

Enjel shrugged her hand off her shoulder and opened the door, drawing a key with a grin engraved on it from her other pocket. “Fine. From this point on, you have nothing to worry about. Is that better?”

“Stop! Don’t lock me in here!” Charlotte saw the key and panicked, throwing herself at Enjel and trying to get through the door. Enjel quickly slammed the door on her, and there was an ugly, fleshy sound as it shut. Charlotte screamed through the door.

Enjel looked down at the stone floor at the top of the spiral staircase. As Charlotte continued to shriek in pain and distress, the pale little finger left a trail of blood as it rolled down the steps.

Enjel woke up, gasping and clutching the forefinger on her left hand. It didn’t hurt for her real one, but it did twitch a little. She vividly remembered what it had been like to lose a finger. Charlotte was unlikely to ever forget it either.

 

Chapter 14

 

As hard as she’d tried, the next thing the witch saw after closing her eyes was not the fireplace in front of her. She was dreaming. And for a woman like her, that invariably meant nightmares. And usually, the same one.

It always started with a calming midday view of her home village of Keiferburg, in more complicated times. Times complicated by witch hunts and paranoia. This air of distrust grew unignorable at night, when the people of the village would go looking for a witch. A little girl with hazel eyes grew more and more nervous of them, and once, she had even tried to convince her neighbor, a miller she’d grown up next to, not to join them. She had liked him well enough and thought she could trust him. Children could be so naive.

The man had instead distrusted her immediately, presuming her, her mother and her grandmother, and even her father to be witches. Fortunately, his paranoia didn’t persuade anyone. Her family was one of the most well-known and respected names in the town, and he was labeled zealous and worrying by most. But it still tainted their name, and it gradually started affecting their lives in little ways.

Then the vision changed to show the man dealing with one of the very demons he was supposedly so angry with. He thought he could beat the grinning thing at its own game. He asked to have the little girl’s family tree given a body in one of the many old trees deep in the forest where he was. He had given a part of his own soul that he planned to take back later for this manifestation. He then took an axe and chopped the old tree down, watching in surprise as blood spurted from the cut trunk’s core. The little girl had watched the whole thing and quietly snuck away after he started to head home, leaving the axe beside the trunk.

The little girl’s family, starting with the oldest and working down the tree, began to grow ill and die. The night her mother and father passed away, the girl began to feel weak to her stomach. She ran out of her dead family’s home, to the bleeding trunk where the man had doomed them, and began to plead for mercy from the same demon. She had only her own soul to offer, and offer it she did in exchange for the power to cancel the curse. But she didn’t stop there.

That night, the girl really did become a witch. And that night, with the wand the thing bound to her, she pushed the limits of her new power. She entered the split mind of the man who had cursed her family, and made him an easy meal for the strange being she now served. She started to, one by one, attack the minds of the men who fueled the atmosphere of paranoia and fear. Most survived, but a few did not. The next day, the witch hunts continued, and the girl realized realized that she had only made it worse. The witch went into hiding, for the dark cloud of terror hung over Keiferburg for several more years, and by the time it came to a close, she was a grown young woman, and had found out how to stay that way.

The dream turned into a long series of lonely memories of journeys and travels through the countryside, of faces of people she had broken in her service, their eyes infused with gold like that Leidl girl, who was most prominent among them, interrupted only by occasional whisperings and visions of a little girl with cherry red eyes labeled “A Single Chance at Happiness.”

 

Goldia sat up in the rose bed she’d been laying in, and looked around. Everything was a dull grey, from the roses to the light coming in through the windows of the small room. Looking at herself, her blue skirt was still blue, her brooch was still red, her pocket mirror was still its lustrous gold, and she was altogether unaffected by the pervasive colorlessness of her mind. She walked to the door and opened it.

She was in the courtyard of the marble tower. She hadn’t been here for a long time, she usually skipped it on her way to visit her personalities. It was just so… boring. Especially now that all the marbles and the ground and windows were grey. Except the red one, which glowed dimly. She crossed to the door whose lamp was normally blue, and entered it.

Goldia entered into Harpae’s mansion and tried the gray elevator. It didn’t activate, so she started up the long, colorless stairs through Harpae’s realm. When she finally arrived at the top, and entered Harpae’s bedroom, she saw a pale Harpae standing in front of the window, staring at the moon with unnatural stillness. Even the light from the moon seemed frozen.

“Harpae?” She called. No response.

She approached the Maiden of Pristine Eyes and found that it was very much as if she’d been frozen in time, her eyes open and her face an expression of quiet contemplation. The lost girl waved a hand in front of her face for a second, before she remembered how that never would have worked anyways. But tapping Harpae’s shoulder got no reaction either, and so Goldia left her standing there, returned to the marble tower, and tried visiting the lavender door.

Lisette was nowhere to be found in the even more black-and-white graveyard, and it scared Goldia. She nervously decided to try going back into the oubliette and see if she could find her there.

She scanned the now well-lit hallways, and advanced down several before she came out into a wide, black field with a red carpet leading her to a circus tent full of bad memories. She hadn’t been there in a long time. As far as she knew, no one had. But perhaps, for some reason, this was where Lisette had been when the drug had swept through. She had to be somewhere. Goldia  took a deep breath and went through the front entrance.

To her surprise and relief, the circus was devoid of cages, blood, and messes of all kind. It was clean, well-kept, and even though it was grey, welcoming. And in the center of the ring, frozen in a delicate position, was Lisette. She looked like she was dancing, her arms outstretched and raised and her legs balancing her as she started the maneuver she was stuck in. She looked beautiful and, aside from her colorless eyes, like she was enjoying herself. It was an expression Goldia had rarely ever seen her make, and while she wanted to check on Fleta, she stayed a little bit and enjoyed the view the unmoving Sleeping Maiden of Horrors provided.

After some time, Goldia left the circus and headed into the normally green door. She was now in Fleta’s mansion. She never called it a dollhouse anymore. Goldia started searching.

She found Fleta napping in the planetarium, her body barely still on the couch in her rigid state. She looked like she’d been about to fall off when the drug hit.  The stars were frozen in place, and looked dead without their color, although they were only asleep.

_ So the drug  paralyzed them all and sent a wave of their bad memories flooding into my head. How awful. _

She went to leave, not yet sure where to, but stopped halfway down the stairs. She decided to check one last thing before she left. She turned and headed to the room across from the planetarium, and gently opened the door.

The room was also reduced to shades of black and white. But the remains of the queen, strikingly, were not.

Goldia gasped when she saw the shattered case’s glass scattered on the wooden floor, and the torn doll leaking cotton, but no blood, in its resting place. The doll was the first colored thing Goldia had seen besides herself. There had to be a reason for it. Elise must have sent it back to Fleta, to her, just for a situation like this. She tentatively approached Egliette’s torn form, looking closer. When she stood directly over her, she saw something she hadn’t seen before: a note, a slip of white paper, sticking out of the doll’s ripped and crownless head. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, and now it felt like she was looking at the message. Goldia pulled it out and unrolled it, gently.

 

_ The power they have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it. _

 

Goldia frowned. “...What?” she whispered aloud to herself.

Could that possibly have been said in a more confusing way? What was even being said? There were too many pronouns. Who were “they”? And what was “it”? The girl turned the words over and over again in her mind.

_ The power they have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it. _

_ The power they have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it. _

_ The power they have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it. _

Perhaps it was the drug, perhaps it was the lack of input from the rest of her, but Elise’s final message made no sense. Perhaps it would make more when the other three awoke. And, as the drug wore off and awakened by Goldia’s noisy thinking as she finished picking up the glass and sewing the doll back together, laying it to rest again in its shattered case, their thoughts started swirling into her ears again.

_ Goldia, what happened? We were at the dinner table and now we’re in bed, feeling cold and sick and confused…   _ Came all their voices at the same time.

_ I tried to give him a piece of my mind... _

_ I tried to stand up for you… _

_ I tried to keep you calm… _

Their voices kept spilling in about their point of view about what had happened at the dinner table while they had been concentrating in their own unique ways: napping, moongazing, and, surprisingly, dancing.

_ I know, you all tried so hard…  _ Goldia responded gently.  _ But the drug overtook you, froze you, and replaced you with your worst memories. They flooded my head and I had to excuse myself and get some sleep to sort everything out.  _ Goldia paused, her hand on the door out of the quiet room.  _ I never would have found the peace to sleep without my uncle. _

_ He’s a true hero.  _ They all thought in unison.

_ Let’s meet in the garden.  _ Goldia opened the door.  _ We have a big day tomorrow. _

 

Chapter 15

 

“Alright, do you all remember that poem Fritz found before dinner?” Goldia asked herself, sitting around Fleta’s dining room table. Everyone nodded.

“It was clearly not an accident that we found it.” Harpae stated.

“But Oswald couldn’t have written that,” said Fleta. “He doesn’t even really think Goldia is crazy. There’s no way he’d know us that well, let alone know we exist.”

“Well it had to be someone…” said Goldia.

“Well,” Lisette began, “if you look at our recent past, you’ll remember an enemy who seems, to me, very capable of planting that message just for us.”

“You mean that lady Goldia let in about a week ago who nearly killed me?” Fleta said tactlessly.

“Fleta!” Harpae scolded. But Lisette and Goldia simply nodded in agreement, to Harpae’s irritation.

“It’s alright, I deserve it.” Goldia said. Fleta shrugged apologetically.

“Yes, you do.” Lisette agreed. Harpae sighed and continued the train of thought.

“So the witch is still after you.”

“Hold on,” said Goldia. “What about the actual message? It was clearly talking about Enjel, did you all not see that?” The text reappeared clear as day in her mind:

_ Clad in peace, but filled with guilt, _

_ Surrounded by friends, who were surrounded by enemies, _

_ Was the queen of the land she and her counterparts had built. _

_ The queen’s advisors had moved on from their loss, _

_ Urging her to follow their example of neglect, _

_ And forsake the friend she had treacherously rewarded. _

_ And in time, she followed their course, _

_ Casting her friend from her feelings just as she had cast her from her kingdom, _

_ Never considering that perhaps, one day, her betrayed ally might return, _

_ Full of fury for never having belonged enough for her loss to have mattered, _

_ And ready to reap her revenge. _

Lisette nodded but the other two shook their heads, losing eye contact.

“What is it, Lisette?” Goldia asked, disappointed in the other two.

“We knew it was talking about Enjel.” Lisette answered. “But as you can see, we don’t particularly like what it said.” Harpae and Fleta reluctantly nodded in agreement.

“Well, that’s understandable. It is, in effect, a threat. But that implies that Enjel is still alive!” Goldia said excitedly. “And if she’s alive, I can-”

“If she’s alive, she’s very angry with you.” Fleta interrupted, earning a sharp look from Goldia. “Hey, that’s what the poem says.”

“How could she be alive anyway?” Harpae asked. “She’s a personality of yours, not a person. She’d have to be inside someone’s head…” she trailed off.

“The witch’s, perhaps?” Lisette tried.

“Oh no…” Goldia said quietly.

Harpae broke the short silence that followed. “Well, it wouldn’t surprise me if the witch has managed to corrupt her again, perhaps blackmail or bribe or manipulate her into thinking that your pocket mirror is her only chance at happiness, at living.” Nods from the other two.

Goldia stammered. “But… but…” Even if they couldn’t hear it, they would’ve known what she was thinking.

_ But I wanted her to live with me, live as me... _

“Goldia,” said Fleta, “Enjel has already tried to kill you and take your pocket mirror. I think I speak for all of us when I say-”

“Well you know what?!” Goldia snapped, surprising everyone. “So have you! So have all of you!”

Everyone stared silently. Goldia took a deep breath and continued.

“As I’m sure you all know, I still think Enjel is as much a part of me as any of you.” Fleta looked like she was about to object, but wisely reconsidered and stayed quiet. “But now, I have something more to say. I don’t think it’s in any way fair for any of you to think of her like this. Couldn’t the same have happened to any of you if I’d failed you in my journey and you’d destroyed yourselves? Wouldn’t we have just moved on without you?”

As they started turning it over, Goldia drilled the point home. “‘Good riddance to that gluttonous brat! Good riddance to that suffocating servant girl! Good riddance to that terrifying psychopath!” she spat, turning to Fleta, Harpae, and finally Lisette. Fleta was stunned, Lisette was silent, but Harpae grew angry.

“Goldia!” Harpae snapped. “That’s enough!”

Goldia shrunk back a little. “I’m sorry… I just…”

No one said anything for several moments. Then, Goldia, having once again collected herself, spoke.

“I just don’t think it’s fair to treat her like the poem says we do. Especially assuming she’s alive, which I think we should at this point, I think it’s best if we try to reconcile her again.”

Fleta looked confused, Lisette’s face was a mask, but Harpae shook her head.

“Goldia, losing Enjel is simply not the same as losing one of us, and never has been.” Goldia was about to reply, but Harpae went on. “It’s not fair for you to try to equate her with us. While it’s true that we all, in one way or another, at one time or another, tried to hurt you or separate you from your pocket mirror, we did it with good intention towards you. The same was never true of that girl.” Fleta nodded, although Lisette’s face remained unreadable. Looking at Goldia again, Harpae saw that she had made a point, and continued. “And if she returns tomorrow, which I’m certain she will, we have to be ready to repel her. Tomorrow, when they are examining you, she and the witch will have a perfect opportunity to attack you at your most vulnerable. There will be no time to try to somehow persuade her otherwise. She needs to be stopped, permanently.”

Goldia thought for a moment, then said, “Harpae, don’t you think that Enjel is, at a basic level, one of me?”

Harpae looked puzzled. Lisette watched intently.

“Well…” she began.

“The correct answer is yes.” Goldia said, exasperated. “Don’t you remember? You were there when she separated from me! Don’t you remember how I was falling apart, right in front of you, and I shed a single tear?”

Harpae’s eyes widened as the memory vividly flashed into her mind. 

_ You mustn’t dwell in guilt, milady. _

_ I don’t want to shatter, Harpae… _

And then it happened: the single golden drop fell from her charge’s face, out of sight.

Harpae’s hands shook for a moment as the memory left. “You’re… you’re right. I do remember.”

Goldia sighed with relief. Lisette and Fleta continued silently listening.

Harpae continued, the surety leaving her voice, replaced with growing distress. “But… how can I... how can we keep you safe tomorrow?” She bowed her head for a few moments. Then, she faced Goldia again and spoke. “But the fact remains. If I have to choose between you and Enjel when the time comes, I will do everything in my power to fulfill my duty to you.”

Lisette immediately nodded firmly in agreement.

“That’s basically what I was thinking.” Fleta shrugged.

Goldia sighed. “Thank you… but…”

“But what?” they all said at once.

Goldia thought for a moment, then remembered the note in her pocket. “Did I tell you about what I found in… mother’s room? While you were all stuck?”

They raised their eyebrows, although they were relieved to move on to another topic.

“No, you didn’t.”  Harpae answered.

“What happened to Egliette when the drug hit?” Fleta asked curiously.

“What did the note say?” Lisette got to the point.

“It just said, ‘The power they have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it.’” Goldia recited. “It doesn’t make sense to me, but maybe it can make sense to…” she gestured vaguely around the table. “...me.” she finished lamely. Fleta giggled, then said:

“Well, it doesn’t make sense to me either.”

While Lisette was looking thoughtful, Harpae said: “Well, first you must find out who ‘they’ are and, perhaps more importantly, what ‘it’ is.” she paused. “But I think if you can just uncover one of them, the other should become obvious. That’s typically how it works.”

Goldia smiled. “Thank you Harpae.”

“You’re welcome, my girl.” Harpae closed her eyes and smiled back.

Lisette continued the train of thought. “Well, Elise is clearly the one trying to tell you something.”

“So who would she be warning you about?” Fleta asked.

“Well, I think it’s most likely, in light of recent events, I mean, and since she brings up ‘their’ power, which is apparently important in this case…” Harpae couldn’t see any of their blank faces, but she felt that she’d lost them all. She cleared her throat and tried again.

“Well, since she brings up ‘their’ power, I think she’s likely talking about a magical person, which makes me think of intruders like Enjel or the witch, or their master.”

“Alright, let’s try placing that in the sentence.” Goldia said. She was enjoying this train of thought. You just couldn’t have conversations like this with real people most of the time. They often grew impatient. But this was her mind, and she was sleeping, so she had time and she wasn’t getting impatient with herself anytime soon. “The power the demon and his allies have can be measured by and equated to the power you grant it.”

“Hmmmm…” said Fleta. “I think ‘it’ might just stand for him again. He’s definitely an ‘it’.”

“Not quite,” Harpae replied. “She wouldn’t have referred to him as ‘they’ earlier in the same sentence.”

Lisette nodded. “I agree. I think she was more likely talking about an object you have a lot of control over, and I, of course, immediately have the pocket mirror come to mind.”

Goldia reached into her pocket and pulled it out. “Well, I know this thing has power, but I don’t really get to choose it…”

The sentence hung like a question in the air.

_ Who’s to say you can’t?  _ They all thought.

_ Well, I couldn’t choose before… _

_ Of course not, it was your only anchor to sanity at the time. But now… _

Goldia smiled. It was nearly morning, and she could feel the sleep leaving her body as the dining room she sat in started to white out. Just before she opened her eyes, she shared one more thought with them.

_ Now I  _ do  _ get to choose. And I will. _

 

Chapter 16

 

The witch slowly opened her eyes, grateful that the dream was over. Sitting on the floor next to and facing the fire was Charlotte. Her eyes were nearly entirely gold as she stared into the flames and tightly clutched her left finger, as if it was telling her it hurt but she wanted it to shut up. The small  scythe lay on the floor at her side.

“What’s wrong with your finger?” The witch asked, sitting up.

“Nothing. Not with mine, anyway.” Enjel replied, her gaze into the flames unbroken.

“I see.”

Several minutes passed as she joined the girl in her stare into the fire. Then, Enjel spoke, without turning.

“I don’t think I can keep Charlotte contained for much longer.”

The witch glanced at her. “Why?”

“She’s angry. She’s in pain.” Enjel took her right hand off her finger and placed it against her forehead.

“What did you do to her last night?”

“I… she…” Enjel stammered. “She really did it to herself, honestly, er…”

“Did what?”

“She… cut her finger off.”

The witch’s face betrayed no emotion. “I see. Well, I suppose you’ll have to use something to get her under control for today.”

“Use what?” Enjel frowned, again clenching her left forefinger.

“A medicine, for clearing your head.” the witch answered. “I’ve still got some left over, so I don’t need to make more.”

“Left over from what?”

“Why, from Goldia of course.” the witch stood, brushing and straightening her dress.

Enjel pocketed the scythe and stood up as well. “What?”

“The night before last, I sold Lord Die Heilige some of it, and as I predicted, he used it yesterday.”

“What did it do to her?” Enjel asked, sounding very convinced that it was no ‘medicine’. The witch noticed but did not care.

“It temporarily paralyzed her other personalities.”

Enjel recoiled. “That’s a horrible idea! That’ll freeze me up, and she’ll-“

“No, Enjel. It won’t do that to you.” The witch cut her off.  

“Why not?”

“You’re holding the Pocket Mirror, yes?”

Enjel patted Charlotte’s other pocket. “Yes.”

“Then Charlotte is the other personality.”

Enjel’s eyes widened in understanding. She smiled. “Let’s use it.”

“No! Don’t use it! Please!” Charlotte cried out the tower window. What remained of her left forefinger she had bandaged with a torn piece of curtain, and it throbbed painfully.

But Enjel ignored her, listening to the witch with her back to Charlotte.

“Not yet, Enjel. I don’t have enough to make it last very long; we should save it until later today.”

Enjel grunted. “Fine…”

Charlotte rested her head on the windowsill, slumping in relief. She had time. She had to do something, but what?

_ I have to stop her…  _ she thought, a little too loudly.

 

Goldia knocked gently on her uncle’s room door. “Uncle, are you awake?” she whispered through the door. The sun had just started cresting the horizon, and the house was dimly lit by the morning light.

There was no response, so Goldia assumed he was still asleep and started upstairs to wait in the library.

She opened the door to the library and went in. She was startled when she saw Fritz in his day clothes, sitting at a table between the shelves, reading, with some paper, ink and a quill on the table. He looked up from his book and notes when she closed the door behind her and started towards him.

“Ah, good morning, Goldia.” He greeted her with a tired voice as she sat down in the chair next to him. “Did you sleep well? Dinner was certainly a nasty surprise for you, wasn’t it?”

Goldia sighed. “It was unpleasant. But it helped me learn about myself.”

“I see. Has the drug worn off?”

“Yes, I think so. How long have you been awake?” she asked, noticing a lit candle on the table next to him.

“Not too long, I’d guess about an hour. It was still dark when I awoke.” he explained. “I was having trouble sleeping. I woke up again and, instead of going back to sleep, decided to do some more reading, focusing more on law.”

“Ah, I see.” She sighed mentally at the reminder of today’s plan. Then she remembered something. “Say, you never told me how you learned to read. When did that happen?”

“Ah, that’s actually a simple explanation. Elise taught me.”

“Where did she learn to read and write?”

“That, I don’t know.” Fritz shrugged. “ I didn’t even know she could, until she told me. And I never asked her, shame on me. I didn’t know she’d been keeping a journal either”

Goldia raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s interesting.”

“Indeed. Perhaps we’ll never know.” Fritz continued reading, making more notes.

“Well, what can I do to help you get me through today?” she asked after a few moments.

“I will make sure today is as easy as possible for you,” Fritz replied, not looking up from what he was writing. “You just need to be yourself for the examiners. Are you sure the drug is not affecting you anymore?”

Goldia nodded. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Good.” Fritz quickened his writing. “I’m no match for Oswald in terms of legal experience, but I have confidence in my case and very little in his. I have a good feeling about today.”

“That’s good.” Goldia leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Fritz finished writing and gently laid down the quill. “You’re very welcome. I’m very interested in putting my disgraceful brother-in-law in his place.”.

Goldia smiled. After a few moments, she sat up straight and stood, stretching her arms and yawning, her long hair majestic in the pose.

Fritz organized his notes and stood as she finished stretching. “Well, let’s wait until Oswald is awake again; my case is ready.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Mine is as well.” Oswald stepped into the library, startling the two. He was dressed for the day, sharp and businesslike.

Fritz scowled. “How long have you been listening?”

“Relax, your conversation leading up to a few seconds ago is secret to me.” He said. “Come, breakfast is nearly ready.” He turned and stood beside the door.

Neither Fritz or his niece took a step. “Actually, we are going to buy our own breakfast today.” He stated.

Oswald rolled his eyes, annoyed with the food that would be wasted but not willing to argue about it. “Suit yourselves. I’ll see you at the courthouse before ten.” He exited, headed for the dining room.

Fritz took his niece and his notes down to their rooms. She went into her room and changed into some day clothes while he went to grab his purse from his room and put his case in it, and retrieved the sack from under his bed. Having collected what he came for, he waited outside her room until she came out, wearing her favorite blue dress and white blouse, with a red pendant at the collar.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

She patted her pocket. “Yes.”

They headed downstairs to the door. She slipped on her pink Mary Jane shoes as he put on his worn ones, and the two set off as he held the door open, closing it behind himself.

 

After they finished breakfast, Fritz headed them both over to the courthouse. Oswald had told him his lawyer was waiting for him there on the carriage ride; he had asked while Goldia had been sleeping. He needed to talk to this man, Mr. Schneider, to become acquainted with the case and coordinate their arguments.

When he and Goldia arrived at the building, he found the man in one of the file viewing rooms after asking around. Schneider, a young lawyer with dull clothing, was agreeable enough, but quiet and generally inarticulate. He had blue eyes and dark hair, and a face that suited his profession well.  However, he was an enormous help to Fritz in the hours leading up to nine. He wasn’t terribly experienced, but he seemed to know what he was doing, and talking with him was incredibly informative for Fritz in terms of how a court worked and how to defend against a prosecution like Oswald’s, and also how to say lots of the longer, harder relevant words. Goldia, however, did not have much to do and ended up sitting quietly, listening for hours. She was too tense to fall asleep, but she waited patiently as the lawyer brought Fritz up to speed.

But when nine o’clock came around, an hour before the court would begin, a well-dressed man outside summoned Mr. Schneider for a few minutes. When the lawyer came back, he resumed where they’d left off, slowing down gradually until eventually, he stopped talking, staring off into space.

“Hello?” Fritz said, calling the man back to the present. “Mr. Schneier?”

The man turned to him slowly and said: “I’m… I’m so sorry, but the longer I look at this case, the less of a good idea it seems for my future and career.” Goldia and Fritz’s jaws dropped in surprise.

“What?!” Fritz exclaimed. “You’re telling me we can’t win this case?!”

“It’s not that… it’s just…” Schneider mumbled. “It’s complicated, I can’t be your attorney. You’ll need to find someone else.” He hurriedly started packing up his things, but Fritz quickly swept all the papers they had worked on together away from him.

“I will keep our work from this morning.” Fritz stated. “How can you do this to us? How can you do this to  _ her _ ? We need a lawyer! We need  _ you _ , we don’t have time to find another-”

Schneider turned to leave. “I’m sorry… it’s not something I can explain right now, good luck.” and with that, he left. Fritz fumed as Goldia stared in disbelief at the empty doorway.

“He can’t just…” she stuttered.

“Gott verdammt!” Fritz cursed, leaning forward against the table with his elbows. “There’s no way I’m finding another lawyer who can argue this case in that much time!”

Goldia sighed heavily. “I suppose that means…”

“What?” Fritz asked.

“I guess… you have to be the attorney now.” She said quietly, looking straight at him.

Fritz’s eyes widened, but then a look of thought came over him as he glanced at the papers again. “There’s no law that says I can’t do that, is there. Unfortunately, there’s no law that saws I have the right to a practicing attorney either…” he muttered. But then he smiled. “I may be able to argue this case better than Schneider could, now that I think about it.”

_ That man was afraid.  _ He thought, recalling Schneider’s exit.  _ Oswald… Oswald is the reason he just left, isn’t he? It couldn’t have been a bribe, he couldn’t possibly compete with Goldia... _

“You’ll do great!” Goldia encouraged, standing up. “You won’t have to talk through anyone else. And I’m sure anyone could argue with the foolishness that you’re up against.”

“Alright, so it is then.” Fritz looked at all the pages again, gathered them up, and stood. “Let’s get to that courtroom. You’re uncle may have just added something to our case.”

 

Chapter 17

 

Judge Wagner was not a thin man, in width nor, it seemed, in patience, judging by his reaction to Oswald’s introductory speech. He wore small circular glass spectacles, his black judge’s robes, and an observant and round face. He wasn’t obese, but he certainly looked out of shape. His gaze and his composure, however, more than made up for it when it came to being taken seriously as he sat behind the podium of the moderate courtroom.

Oswald, who was opposite Goldia and her uncle, with professionals and associates at his table, was wrapping up his introduction, which consisted of establishing himself as a credible source of evidence by referencing his title and his history, stating that the judge’s objective ought to be to determine if Goldia Die Heilige was mentally fit enough to take control of the vast assets of her deceased family, all else was irrelevant, and finishing up with introducing Fritz, Goldia’s attorney,  as Elise’s uneducated brother who barely knew how to read and write, and hadn’t known Goldia until this month. Evidence and arguments were not brought up in introductory speeches, and Oswald followed that rule. Fritz and his niece waited patiently for him to finish, Fritz’s face a crude mask that made him seem serious but confused you if you tried to decipher anything more. Goldia knew  _ she _ was nervous, but was pretty sure no one else could tell by looking at her. She didn’t know what to expect from Fritz or from the examiners.

“...and with this introduction,” Oswald concluded, facing Judge Wagner, “I hope your honor can see clearly and find the correct resolution.” He bowed and seated himself to a round of applause from the crowd and a polite nod from the judge as he hammered it down.

“Thank you, Lord Oswald.” Wagner addressed him, receiving a respectful nod in return.  “Please know that your status and reputation are well-known, and that they will be weighed appropriately as a witness.” He turned to face Fritz, who made eye contact. “And now, Mr. Leidl, we will hear your introduction.”

“Thank you, sir-your honor.” Fritz corrected and stood, shuffling his papers, and laying them out on the table in front of him. He took a deep breath, and began. “My…” he paused. Wagner raised an eyebrow. Fritz looked away from his notes and directly at the judge, beginning again. “My name is Fritz Leidl, brother of Elise Leidl Die Heilige, brother-in-law to Oswald Die Heilige, and uncle to the defendant, Goldia Die Heilige. I have come here today to defend Goldia Die Heilige’s claim to inheritance, and to…” he swallowed, glanced at his notes, then pushed on with renewed confidence. “...to levy charges of misconduct towards Lord Oswald Die Heilige, for drugging myself and my niece last night in an attempt to weaken us in court today. I would also like the reason my attorney left in great distress less than an hour ago investigated. ” The crowd gasped in surprise, Wagner raised an eyebrow, and Oswald did his best condescending laugh to disregard it, although he was clearly not happy. Chatter broke out in the assembly, and Wagner silenced it with his gavel.  “I also wish to make his motives crystal clear to the court.” Fritz continued. “He stands to gain the Die Heilige family estate, under the will’s current interpretation, should Goldia be deemed unfit to inherit.” At this, Wagner looked very much like he was thinking something along the lines of  _ Well, that’s certainly not news. _ But he didn’t say anything aloud, and listened as Fritz continued. “Furthermore, I would like to…” another glance at his notes , “...clarify what the will actually says regarding inheritance and what it views as a ‘valid heir’, as well as how it addresses the scenario in which there are no immediate family members to inherit.”

“Have you read the will in its entirety?” Wagner asked.

“Yes.” Fritz answered. He had gone over it with Scheidel, before the man had left of course.

“Very well.” Wagner said.  “Your authority on the will’s interpretation is recognized, and equivalent to Lord Die Heilige’s.”

“Equivalent?!” Oswald complained.

“Silence!” Wagner boomed at Oswald, surprising everyone with his sudden raised voice. “You have the same relationship with the heir, and you have both read the will in its entirety. You have no more authority over it than Mr. Leidl.”

Oswald, momentarily taken aback, nodded with a grunt.

“Carry on, Mr. Leidl.” Wagner addressed Fritz again. “Unless you are finished.”

“I would remind the court and especially the prosecution that this is not a criminal trial, but a mental health one. And to point out the legal definition of insanity, and also point out that the…” another glance at his notes, “...prosecution, has failed to define it.”

“Go on.” Wagner listened carefully.

“Insanity, as defined in Viennese law, is…” he started reading a paragraph on a page in front of him, “mental illness of such a severe nature that a person cannot distinguish fantasy from reality, cannot conduct her/his affairs due to psychosis, or is subject to uncontrollable impulsive behavior. Insanity is distinguished from low intelligence or mental deficiency due to age or injury.” He emphasized the last part.

_ Good heavens, I’m glad I went over this with Schneider beforehand. _

Wagner nodded his head as he read it, impressed. “That is correct. The court will use this definition, as no other definition has been offered to challenge this court-given one.”

Fritz nodded gratefully. “Lastly, it is critical that this court not deprive the rightful heir to Die Heilige of her property for anything less than complete and irreversible madness. Thank you, your honor.” He sat down. Goldia smiled at him, but he did not look at her; he was focused on the other members of the court.

Wagner nodded again, then turned to Oswald and his associates once more. “Now, the court will hear the prosecution’s arguments. Go on, Lord Die Heilige.”

Oswald stood, closing his folder in front of him. He cleared his throat, and began:

“I would like to begin by illustrating Miss Die Heillige’s mental health history leading up to her visit to the Viennese General Hospital, in an attempt to share an understanding of my difficulty in believing her supposed ‘recovery’ has worked so fast. As you all know, she was admitted and released within a month, barely enough time for them to even diagnose her with her conditions, which broadly include Lunacy, Dementia, Dissociation, and Manic Depression, with suspected Multiple Personality Disorder.”

Goldia stared levelly at him, showing no reaction. None of it was news, but it still took some will. He continued.

“And I, along with many others, a few of whom I have brought as witnesses today…” he gestured to some of the men sitting at his table, “can testify that this is accurate to the fullest extent from personal experience. This man here, in fact,” he gestured to the doctor next to him, “was one of the men who diagnosed her, although he left the hospital before she was diagnosed again and found ‘stable.’

Oswald continued talking, but neither Fritz nor Goldia was listening. They were both looking at the man Oswald had just pointed out. He was thin, pale, and his hair was starting to grey. He had a face sharp as a dagger that had inflicted many a wound, with dull green eyes that were focused entirely on Fritz, almost as if trying not to look at Goldia, and a sharp nose. They’d both seen him before.

_ That’s the man who spoke with Schneider not an hour ago.  _ Fritz thought, his suspicions thoroughly aroused.

_ I know that man, he  _ did  _ diagnose me…  _ Goldia had a instinctual fear of him. She felt like she knew things about him, but she couldn’t quite solidify the memories. She knew he was bad news. But Oswald’s voice came back into hers and Fritz’s attention.

“I also have several letters and records from other people who knew her and even a few from herself that stand as evidence of her condition.”

_ Oh no…  _ Goldia thought miserably.  _ Is he going to read my diary? The letters from my teacher?  _ She glanced at Fritz, who was paying annoyed attention.

“The court stands in thorough knowledge of Miss Die Heilige’s previous condition. You need not prove it.” Wagner stated. Goldia gave an internal sigh of relief. But then he kept talking. “The court does need to know, however, the name and experience of the man you say diagnosed the defendant with her illness.”

“Very well.” Oswald gestured the doctor to stand up, and as the man did, they saw a pitch black rosary on his right wrist.

_ He was an exorcist…  _ Goldia thought.  _ No wonder he makes me uncomfortable. _

Oswald introduced him. “This is Doctor Roger Weber, who has practiced religion and psychology for several years.”

“Understood, you may continue.” The judge said.

“Excellent, your honor.” Oswald nodded, and Weber sat down as he continued. “Carrying on with this knowledge, doesn’t it surprise the court and everyone therein that the Viennese General Hospital let her out so fast? You see, she was admitted on July sixteenth, and diagnosed within the same month she was released! Today is near the end August of the same year, mind you. This isn’t ancient history! As many are aware, I hold the suspicion that she or someone she knows paid for her early release.”

A murmur from the crowd. Oswald was a good orator, far better than Fritz. But what he had in oration, he lacked in basis. And Fritz knew that.

Judge Wagner nodded. “Understood. Please continue.”

_ Please don’t.  _ Thought the defendant and her attorney.

“You see,” Oswald continued, “because of this, I and my associates as well as the experts I have brought here today believe there is reason for an examination that is not conducted by that hospital.” Oswald continued. “Which is precisely what I request be allowed to take place  after the first recess. This is also where I will base my case’s evidence; the examination results cannot lie.” He took a seat once more.

“Your grounds for examination are stated and will be considered fully after the defendant’s argument.” Wagner nodded again, then turned back to Fritz, who was hurriedly arranging and double-checking his papers. “Mr. Leidl, are you ready?”

Fritz nodded and stood. “Yes, your honor.”

“Then proceed.”

Fritz cleared his throat. Then, as is common with people who believe in what they’re saying but aren’t very experienced at speaking in public, he started with a lot of stammering that quickly evened out as he gained confidence and got into his stride.

“Well… to begin, I er…” raised eyebrows from Oswald’s table, which ended up strengthening him in his oration. “I would like to begin by defending Goldia’s sanity with all the evidence that the… prosecution has to overcome, and hopes to with an examination, that, I assure you, will show nothing.” He shuffled through his papers, and, finding the one he was looking for, held it up and began reading it.

“First and foremost, the respected Viennese General Hospital’s statement of release, which declared her ‘mentally healthy’ and ‘psychologically stable.’” He struggled a bit on the word ‘psychological’, but he got it right fast enough. “Arguing against this basic statement is to undermine the ‘status and reputation’ of this hospital, which, from my understanding, has been in operation since 1697, standing to the present day. Lord Die Heilige’s accusation of bribery is based solely upon a suspicion, which is no basis at all, especially against such a well-known and regarded hospital.” he put down the paper and faced the judge and his opposition, Wagner and Weber giving him attentive stares, Oswald giving him a glare, and Goldia watching with wide eyes. “I hope the court will find his attempt to disregard that facility and organization’s signature with similar distaste.”

“The court thus far shares your view on Lord Die Heilige’s accusation of the Viennese General Hospital, but awaits his examination of the defendant as well as the witness of Doctor Weber and others before making a final declaration.” Wagner pronounced. Oswald’s face was patient, fitting in well at his table.

Fritz couldn’t help feeling like he could have driven the point home better. He decided to continue on the defense.

“Now, concerning Goldia’s mental health, I think it’s fair to call myself a reliable  witness of her behavior for the last several weeks, as I have been her caretaker in Keiferburg village.” He explained. Then glancing at her, he said: “And in all honesty, these past few weeks have been some of the best of my life. She’s easily the most polite, reserved, kind and gentle child I have ever met.” Goldia beamed beside him. “I think anyone who thinks to call her mad simply hasn’t spent a single afternoon with her.”

“Would the defendant please validate your claim?” Wagner requested.

“Yes, he’s taken excellent care of me.” Goldia stated from her seat beside him.

“Who sent you to live with him?”

“Why, Lord Die Heilige did.” Fritz answered. Goldia nodded, and Wagner gestured that he was satisfied.

“Carry on, then.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Fritz paused. What now? He couldn’t think of anything else to defend, so he moved onto the offense after a few moments of consideration and looking for the right notes. Then, finding what he was looking for, he looked at the judge and began, glancing at his notes as he spoke.

“Now, I would like to make the charge of misconduct. Lord Die Heilige put a substance in the food he served myself and the defendant last night that he described as... ‘colorless and flavorless.’ It did no harm to myself or to him, but it forced our niece to retire to her room, so severe were its effects on her.”

“Is this true?” Wagner turned to Oswald, who sighed heavily.

“Yes. Misrepresented as it is, it is true.” he replied.

Fritz was surprised. He’d expected Oswald to deny it vehemently. He glanced down at the sack he’d brought in with the evidence in it.

_ So much for that. _

“Can you provide a description of the drug’s impact?” Wagner asked, facing Goldia.

“Certainly.” She answered. “A few minutes after I-”

“Objection!” Oswald stood.

“On what grounds?” Wagner asked with a frown.

“Incompetence. This witness is not stable enough to provide a factual-”

“An objection of incompetence is redundant and unnecessary.” Wagner cut him off. “She is the defendant, and her mental stability is the very thing this court is in session to determine. Objection overruled. Go on, Miss Die Heilige.”

Oswald reseated himself, his face momentarily contorted with frustration.

“A few minutes after I had started eating, it was as if I was someone else for a moment, and I burst out uncontrollably. Soon after that it happened again, and again once more.” She gestured with her hands as she explained. “By the third time, this sense of panic and dull pain started flooding my brain, and I withdrew from the table and ran to my room. By the time I reached my bed, I could not stand up straight, my head hurt too much. As I lay down, I started having awful hallucinations, bad memories forcing their way into my vision. But then, as Mr. Leidl came into my room and helped me calm down, I was able to fall asleep. Once I was no longer awake, the fear and hurting gradually came to a stop.”

Fritz and Wagner nodded.

“Understood.” the judge nodded. “Mr. Leidl, why weren’t you or Lord Die Heilige impacted by the poison?”

“I’m…” Fritz paused. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. Oswald claimed it only affected the ‘mentally unfit’, but how would a drug be able to do that?”

“Lord Die Heilige, what did you use and how did you obtain it?” Wagner asked.

Oswald and Mr. Weber both stood up, but Oswald answered first. “I purchased it from Mr. Weber.”

“Mr. Weber?” the judge faced the doctor.

“I made it myself.” He replied.

“And what do you call it?” Wagner followed up.

“I call it ‘mind-cough.”

“And has it been tested before?”

“Yes.”

“Where?” Wagner was getting tired of the man’s short answers.

“The Viennese General Hospital, where I worked.”

“What did you use it for?”

“The same thing Lord Die Heilige used it for: determining or proving if someone was too ill to leave. If it had no effect, they were free to go. If they reacted like Miss Die Heilige, on the other hand, we still had work to do.”

As he’d been speaking and Goldia was listening, ugly memories started trickling in. A conversation outside her hospital room she’d overheard once. Shouting, cursing, through the door.

“How long has it been used?”

“Oh, a little less than half a month. They stopped using it recently.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t know; I’d already left.”

“Why did you leave?”

“He didn’t leave.” Goldia answered for him. “He was fired.”

  
  


Chapter 18

 

“Excuse me?” Weber asked, looking at her for the first time since the court had began. His look was uncomfortably familiar.

“Please don’t interrupt.” Wagner reproved her, and she nodded apologetically, eager to look away from the doctor’s eyes. “Were you fired?” he addressed Weber.

“I did not leave my work there entirely of my own accord, although I would have at some point in the near future anyway.” Weber replied.

“Why were you fired?”

Weber frowned that Wagner refused to call a spade something else. “We had differing approaches to psychology and the application of medicine.”

Wagner normally wouldn’t pursue a line of questioning so far, as a judge, but he pushed a little harder, given his growing contempt of the doctor. “Was the word or a synonym of the word ‘unethical’ used in reference to mind-cough?”

“As I said, my colleagues and I harbored differing views on the application of the drug.”

“Answer the question.”

“I take no note of what fools say, your honor.”

“The court tries not to either, doctor.” The judge said. “Yes or no?”

“I do not recall.” The doctor said coldly.

“Hmm.” The judge said. “Very well. In any case, the court finds Lord Die Heilige’s use of mind-cough an offense, and will not permit its further use any more than the Viennese General Hospital. It’s use last night will not be considered evidence against the defendant.”

“But your honor,” Oswald began, “she failed a test of her stability. You can’t disregard-“

“The court can and will disregard a questionable drug’s result from a questionable doctor as evidence against an adolescent who did not consent to its use.” Wagner stated firmly.

Oswald and Weber both flinched slightly, and nodded in grudging acceptance. Fritz was relieved, and smiled encouragingly at Goldia.

“Furthermore, the examination will not be permitted to use mind-cough or any other such substance.”

Goldia sighed in relief at that. Oswald and Weber both seated themselves.

“It seems we’ve underestimated this brother-in-law of yours.” Weber whispered as Wagner turned to Fritz.

“Indeed.” Oswald replied quietly. “But neither of them seems to know that she will fail the examination. As long as we can go ahead with that, success is guaranteed.”

Weber nodded as the judge began speaking.

“Mr. Leidl, do you have anything further to say before the court goes into recess?”

“One moment, your honor…” Fritz started looking through his notes again as he considered for a few moments.

_ I’ve defended the hospital and my niece, I’ve brought attention to his use of mind-cough… _

He considered bringing up his attorney’s suspicious disappearance .

_ That’s a lengthy investigation that needs to happen, and you have no concrete evidence. _

_ Should I bring it up speculatively  anyway? _

_ No, it’ll hurt my appearance more than theirs. Besides, you’ve already damaged theirs enough. _

_ But you should make a closing statement, say all the things that didn’t fit in before and must be said. Make an impact. _

“Your Honor, I’m ready to finish.” He said to the judge.

Wagner nodded. “Very well. Go ahead.”

Fritz took a deep breath, put his notes away, and began.

“Your honor, in summary of my case, I have defended the Viennese General Hospital, and the sanity of the defendant. Neither of which was difficult. Both were called into question with nothing more than suspicion without evidence, and the entire thing is motivated by a vested interest in Roman Per’s assets. I mean, consider how she’s acted today, under the scrutiny of a court: she’s been polite, reserved, and calm. If she were really as mad as the prosecution would have you believe, she’d have shown that by now.” He paused for a few moments, thinking. “But neither party today has brought up what I think is one of the most important things about the outcome of this case: the precedent it will set for future cases like it. Your honor, if Lord Die Heilige’s case is declared victorious, it will become that much easier for other people, not just adolescents, to have their assets taken away because of false claims of mental illness. That’s a slippery slope I strongly urge you not to start.”

“The court respects your warning and your case as a whole.” Wagner nodded. “The examination after the recess will, unless a reason to continue further is found, be the final determining  piece of evidence on Miss Die Heilige’s fitness to inherit.”

Fritz nodded and sat down. Neither he nor Goldia knew why, but the coming examination was worrying for both of them.

_ That’s ridiculous.  _ Fritz told his concern.  _ She’ll be fine. Stop worrying. It will serve as the last nail in the coffin for his ridiculous case. _

_ Why am I still so nervous?  _ Goldia asked herself.  _ I don’t have an illness, and I’m not compromised… _

_ But I could become compromised.  _ She thought, remembering Enjel and the witch.  _ I need to be very careful this recess. _

“The court will now take a recess until the end of lunch, resuming at 12:30 sharp.” Wagner announced, hitting the podium with his gavel once, suspending the session.

_ End of lunch?  _ Fritz thought with worry.  _ I wanted to visit the hospital. We better be fast. _

_ End of lunch?  _ Goldia thought with relief.  _ That’s not too long. _

 

A woman with long, flowing purple hair, a dress of the same color  and golden eyes had left her basket and hat at the house she had taken up residence in, and she now approached the door of the hospital. She opened the door for the little brown haired golden-eyed girl accompanying her and went in after her, holding her breath in concentration. Once inside, the pair strode past the secretary, who knew they were there, but for some reason, found no interest in questioning them as they entered the door leading to wards 6, 7, and most importantly, 8.

Once they were out of the secretary’s sight, the witch gasped for air as she finally let go of the spell.

“What’s wrong?” Enjel asked as they started down the hall.

“Nothing.” The witch replied. “It’s simply a very difficult spell to sustain, to suggest apathy so strongly.”

“So you told him not to care with magic?” Enjel asked, fascinated.

The witch quietly started up the steps. “You could say that, yes.”

Enjel, slowing down a little to make less noise, started following the witch up the first staircase.

 

The hospital was only a block away, about a minute’s quick walk from the courthouse. As Goldia and her uncle briskly made their way there, he asked her something.

“How did you know he was fired?”

“I remembered overhearing him shouting with someone outside my door about it.” She answered simply.

_ I’m starting to get the feeling that Lisette knows much more, and isn’t telling me…  _ she thought.

They reached the building and entered into the reception room. Strangely, the room was only familiar to her from when she had recently left the place. Fritz approached the secretary.

“Sir, could I speak to the director?” Fritz asked hopefully. It was nearly lunch hour, and he really needed to ask him something.

“Yes, I’d guess he’s headed for the faculty lunch room.” The secretary pointed to a door marked ‘Faculty’. “Two doors down on the right.”

“Thank you sir.” Fritz turned and headed for the indicated door. But Goldia approached the secretary and asked a different question.

“May I look around in the 8th ward?” She asked.

“Um…” the secretary was hesitant. The 8th ward was derelict, but hadn’t been that way for that long. He still felt she needed some supervision though.

“How old are you?” He asked.

“I’m sixteen. I would like to visit my old room here.”

The secretary’s eyes widened in recognition. “Hey, I saw you once before! Your red eyes are so striking. Your name was Gloria, correct?”

“Goldia.” She smiled.

“My mistake. Well, Goldia, I see no issue with you spending some time there. Just don’t break anything, okay?”

“Alright.” She headed for the door she remembered led to the right room. Fritz came over and gently put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

“What are you looking for, exactly?” He asked quietly.

“I’m… not sure. Something important.” She responded, opening the door.

_ Lisette has something to show me. _ She thought but didn’t say.

“Very well. Don’t get lost and be careful. Oh, and hold your memories close to your heart.” He added. Seeing Goldia’s surprise that he knew that phrase, he elaborated. “Your mother told me that one quite a lot before she left. I think it’s appropriate for the situation, yes?”

Goldia nodded. “Good luck. I’ll see you in the reception room before a quarter after noon?”

Fritz nodded. “Yes, that sounds good.”

She gave him a quick hug and entered the door, walking down the hallway and up a flight of stairs, out of view. Fritz turned and headed to the faculty lunchroom.

 

Chapter 19

 

Goldia took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door, which squeaked hideously. Flinching at the noise, she quietly stepped inside her old room.

The room was dark, lit only by the weak light peeking through the curtained window across the room from her. She could barely see the outline of the bed, drawers, chair  and mirror, which were outside the rays of sunshine coming through the panes. She crossed the room and pulled the shades apart, and the room was illuminated.

She glanced around the small room. There was a clock on the wall above the dresser, next to which  a large black cross was hung. She shivered and her gaze moved on to the mirror. But then she noticed something: She had no reflection.

_ That’s impossible!  _ She protested to herself.  _ I’m awake and I know who I am! What’s this? _

She approached the reflectionless mirror, and reached out to the touch the surface. But when she touched it, it felt like paper. She ran her hand along the ‘glass’, and realized that it was a painting of a glass surface hung on the mirror stand.

_ Nice try, Weber.  _ She thought bitterly. And to think,  _ my real reflection was fine that whole time- _

She was interrupted in her thinking by a flashback. She saw doctor Weber look at her with a raised eyebrow as she, sitting in a chair in front of the mirror and seeing no reflection, had a breakdown because of it. Goldia held a hand to her forehead as the vision stopped.

_ That… that “doctor” tricked me! He wanted me to think I was crazy and since I couldn’t tell it was a fake he called me crazy! And I was so afraid after that, I’d never look at it again. _

She shook her head in anger and tore the paper off the mirror, revealing the real glass below, and her reflection. She looked just like she had in her fateful journey, which felt like such a long time ago now.

She turned from the mirror and opened the drawers. They were empty.

She felt she should examine the bed. She was listening very hard, but that’s all Lisette could do to talk to her while she was awake. Ever since she’d awoken in this very room for the first time in a few weeks, she’d only ever spoken with herselves in her sleep. When she was awake, they could really only feel to her. Usually this was very sufficient, but when it came to specific instructions, it proved challenging.

She stood next to the bed and bent down, scanning the floor beneath it.

_ Come on, she remembers something I left  here. I remember something I left here.  _ She corrected herself in her thinking. But there was nothing under the bed, so she stood up and pulled back the covers. Still nothing, until she lifted the pillow. A small envelope. The staff must not have checked her bed or made it themselves as she had already made it herself when she left, or else they surely would have found this. And, opening it, she realized they surely would have been horrified.

It was full of papers that were full of questions that were full of answers that had been written by someone with a very shaky hand and a very weak grasp on reality. She started reading the first few.

Are you alone when you go to sleep?

**_No, they won’t play with me either…_ **

**_No, they won’t calm down…_ **

**_No, they won’t stop hurting me…_ **

The three answers triggered very different emotions and memories, in the rose garden, mansion and circus.

When do you feel the most safe?

**_When I have Egliette with me_ **

**_When my charge is safe_ **

**_When I’m alone_ **

Most of her wanted to stop reading the papers. But she wanted to read more, so she decided to glance at another instead.

Who is Egliette?

**_She’s the queen_ **

Who are you?

**_My name is Flarslglelia_ **

Goldia was thoroughly unnerved by the blurry, indecisive answer to this simple question, and there was not a doubt in her mind that Doctor Weber had been even more disturbed. But her certainty that he was disturbed by it quickly transformed into a certainty that he was rather intrigued by it as she read the next series of questions, where her multiple selves told him all about themselves.

_ Oh no…  _ she thought in multiple voices.  _ He… he knows all of me… _

Now she felt very worried about whatever test he might give her. She had no doubt that even though it was unlikely he himself would be giving it to her himself, he would have written or at least influenced some of the questions. Her heart rate sped up as she started wondering what kinds of questions would be asked...

But if her heart had already been beating rapidly, it reached a new speed when the door to her room squealed as it was opened again.

It was the witch. Her all-too-familiar golden eyes came to rest on Goldia after she soundlessly crossed the room and took a seat at the dresser. Goldia reached for her pocket mirror out of habit, but stopped, returning her hands to her sides. She felt the fear within her shift to anger.

“What more do you want?” she said in a low voice. “You’ve already taken one of me.” she spat.

“I’m here to give back what I stole.” the witch replied in a quiet and even voice, her expression blank.

Goldia’s raised an eyebrow. “What exactly?”

“Close your eyes.” the witch said as her own eyelids lowered.

“No.” Goldia said immediately. ‘How stupid do you think I am?”

“Please do.” the witch said with her eyes shut. Without opening them, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small golden scythe. It had several cracks in it, Goldia noticed with a sharp breath. Still with her eyes closed, the witch put one hand on the blade, the other on the shaft, and started pulling.

“What are you doing?!” Goldia demanded, taking a step towards her.

“I’ve got to get rid of her somehow.” The witch said simply.  “She dies in my head or yours. Close your eyes and you’ll see through.”

_ Goldia, she’s right in front of you!  _ Came Lisette’s voice _. We can see her! Close your eyes, but be careful. I’ll watch her for you.  _ Came Lisette’s voice.

Stunned by the fact that she had heard one of herselves speak to her while she was awake, Goldia obeyed and closed her eyes. The room was gone, replaced with a vast expanse of blackness. In front of her stood the witch, tearing a much larger scythe slowly in two, cracks forming on the part connecting the shaft to the blade.

“Stop it! I closed my eyes.” She shouted. “What now?”

_ It’s Enjel’s scythe. She must still be alive!  _ Goldia thought with urgency.

“Goldia, help!” came a familiar voice from behind the witch.

Limping and bleeding from wounds in her back and her missing left forefinger, the Cherubina of Shed Wings appeared beside the witch, who released her grip on the scythe. It clattered to the ground, and Enjel flinched in pain as it did. She flinched again and nearly lost her balance when the witch kicked it to Goldia’s feet. Goldia’s wide-eyed gaze went back and forth between them.

“What’s the meaning of this!?” her eyes flashing violet.

“You can have your angry, broken, dying angel back, or not.” the witch replied. “Take the scythe, and she’ll betray you for the last time before today is over. Break it, and you’ll never have to worry about her again.”

_ I’ll have betrayed her for the last time…  _ Goldia thought with panic. Enjel lurched towards her and sank to her knees before Goldia, her hands weakly reaching for the scythe. Goldia heard more voices.

_ Don’t let her take that scythe!   _ she heard Harpae shout.

_ Don’t hurt her, but take it!  _ Fleta joined.

Goldia quickly bent down and took the damaged weapon in her hands, away from Enjel. It was surprisingly light. Enjel looked up at her with wide eyes as the witch disappeared in a small poof. Goldia opened her eyes.

She was holding the small golden scythe in her hands in the dim room once again. The witch was gone. Enjel was no longer visible. She closed her eyes again. Nothing but the backs of her eyelids. She opened them, and gently pocketed the scythe, in the pocket that wasn’t already holding the pocket mirror. She sat down on the bed to think.

 

Fritz was now in the crowded cafeteria, looking for the director. He decided to try asking around to find out what the man looked like or where he was, but as he looked for someone to ask, he spotted a familiar man making for the door out of the lunchroom. It was Mr. Schneider. Fritz started back towards the door, holding out his hand and waving. But Schneider only got faster, and like that, he was out of the room and Fritz’s sight. Fritz hurried out of the large room after him, and got back to the reception room just in time to see the door close behind the lawyer.

“Hey!” Fritz rushed past the confused secretary and out the door, slamming it behind him in his hurry.

The secretary shrugged and sincerely hoped he was back before Goldia came back down.

 

“Mr. Schneider! Slow down!” Fritz called to the fleeing man, both of them slowed by the groups of walking people in the street. “I need to talk to you!”

But Schneider didn’t slow down. He turned a corner into an alleyway, but when Fritz followed him around it, he saw the man leaning against the side of the building, fear in his eyes but a very ‘standing my ground’ posture.  The alley was narrow and came to a dead end. Fritz came to a halt in front of the worried professional.

“Before you say anything,” Schneider began, “I’m terribly sorry about leaving you both.”

Fritz’s expression softened slightly. “I appreciate your apology, but why did you? We had a strong case, and Goldia could pay you very well…”

“It wasn’t about that…” Schneider glanced over his and Fritz’s shoulders nervously before he continued. “You see… I don’t have a choice. Well, I do, but it’s between abandoning you and abandoning my family, perhaps even my life.”

“You’re being blackmailed.” Fritz stated.

Schneider hung his head, and nodded.

“What does Weber have on you?”

Schneider hesitated. “I don’t see what can come of telling you…”

Fritz shook his head. “I can’t do hardly anything for you. But if Goldia succeeds today, which she may need you for, she can do plenty.”

“She’s just a child.” Schneider protested.

“She’s the heir to Die Heilige.” Fritz replied.

“And I’ll be dead! My sister will spend the rest of her life in a ward!” Schneider shouted. “You can’t money your way through what Weber has on his side…”

_ His sister?  _ Fritz thought. He shook his head. First he had to get on the frightened lawman’s side, then he could get details.

“Whatever he’s got, I doubt it’s anything new to Goldia Die Heilige.” Fritz responded levelly.

Schneider stopped and looked Fritz in the eyes. He saw only cold certainty and confidence in what he’d just said. He could almost hear the man think just by looking into that firm gaze.

_ You’ve been manipulated, threatened, had those you love used against you. You and her have a lot in common, and it’s time you follow her lead and fight back with everything you have. _

Schneider sighed heavily. “Very well. I’ll tell you everything I know, and... I’ll do everything I can to be with you in the final session of the court.”

Fritz smiled, full of respect. “You’re a good man, Schneider. What’s your first name?”

“Thomas.” the lawyer gave a worried smile back.

Walking away from the wall behind Schneider, the witch did not smile. Things were about to get a lot more complicated, and at the most delicate part of the plan. She shrugged.

_ I’ve improvised through worse. Besides, I’m sure  _ he’ll  _ be eager to take a more… active role in this affair. _


End file.
